Bitter Escape
by NoFacesOnlyMasks
Summary: How do you keep from despairing when every pleasurable thing you grasp at crumbles to dust? How do you keep from becoming a monster when you're surrounded by manipulation and betrayal? In the end, it's the little things that keep you whole and sane.
1. Prologue

My name was Luke.

I never really got out much. I was a nerd, the kind who'd rather stay in and read a good book than go out and party with the other kids. I got good grades in school, but I really never knew what I wanted to do with myself. I had this innate curiosity, this desire to understand the true nature of the world around me. I tried studying science, but found its explanations cold and inadequate. Then I got into the occult.

At first it was just idle fantasy; time spent on forums, reading odd books, occasionally drawing pentagrams on the floor. I'd been out of school for years, had my own place, a secure job, and I was bored as hell with my life and the world. I started getting more and more into it, if only to meet new people, have something _interesting_ happen in my life. I started showing up to weird meetings, having people over for séances. My whole social life became this strange quest for the true nature of the world. At first I told myself it was just a joke, just a thing to pass the time, and I imagine most of the others felt the same, but still… The lack of any major results from our spells and studies, our careful replications of Crowley's diagrams, began to make me bitter and cynical. I was ready to quit and go back to being a responsible adult. Then I met Serena.

She just showed up to one of our meetings out of the blue. There was something indescribably fascinating about her. Her eyes seemed to see things, things none of us were aware of. No one knew how she got there, who invited her. Everyone assumed someone else had brought her along. She listened quietly to our plans for the next few weeks, the spells we'd try. Then she laughed. She told us that we were doing it all wrong, that no spell could produce results without blood, lots of it, and that we'd have to get serious if we wanted to part the veil and see the truth of this world.

She unnerved a lot of people, I'm sure. I was fascinated. I was enthralled. Here was someone who clearly had SEEN this other world, the one I just KNEW was there, even though I couldn't find it, had no evidence of it, just an intuitive knowledge that there had to be more to this world than cold science and dull routine. I went out of my way to talk to her after meetings, to ask her about what she knew. At first she was dismissive, but she eventually deigned to make some suggestions. She gave me instructions: symbols to be drawn in blood, incantations to be muttered, and you will begin to see beyond the veil. And so I was introduced to Auspex magic.

I tried a number of times, with no results but blood loss. When I achieved success for the first time, I was struck dumb. Had it actually worked? Had I actually… cast a SPELL? At the next meeting, I decided not to share with the group, but to tell Serena separately. She smiled seductively, said, "Why don't' you come over to my place tonight and show me?"

Her apartment was beyond intriguing. Bookshelves stuffed full of tomes that I'm sure would have opened worlds to me. Strange decorations on the walls that spoke of the impossible. Excessive numbers of candles provided the only light. Serena answered the door in a strange red shirt, decorated with arcane symbols and geometric patterns. She brought me over to a table that looked stained, like a great deal of blood had been spilled there. I knew that this was the real thing, that I was finally going to begin to understand. We sat on opposite ends of the table. She handed me a knife and simply said, "Demonstrate the spell."

Hesitantly, I cut open a minor vein on my arm. With the blood trickling out, I drew the symbol she had shown me, the Egyptian eye enclosed in the circle with the symbols at four sides and the weird warped pupil. As I did so, I muttered the odd phrases, one in Latin, the other in Aramaic. Most importantly, I WILLED myself to see. My deep desire to understand, to grasp the truth, was poured into that willing. And I was rewarded.

An understanding of so much that went on around me filled me. I became aware of spiritual energies. I saw auras. Even though I couldn't physically see it, I knew Serena had a cat that was quietly sitting under the couch. "I can see your pet through solid objects." I told Serena, to demonstrate my abilities. "I can see its aura." It was barely visible, and I can see now how weak the spell was, but it was working.

Serena smiled, her otherworldly eyes fixed on me. "What color is its aura?"

"White." I replied. The answer satisfied her.

Then she stared intently into my eyes. "And what color is my aura?"

I stared at her. I knew the aura of living beings was generally white, and could be tinged with other colors, but hers was a dark black, a swirling emptiness. I looked at her in surprise. "Dark." I answered. "Dark Black."

And with that, she said, "Very good, Luke. Very good. Come here, I have a secret to share with you…"

I didn't remember what happened next. I know now what she did, what she did every time I assumed we made love. What I did know is that she was my world. I wasn't bound to her with blood; I was drawn to her by curiosity, by wonder. I stopped going to the groups. She quickly showed me how foolish they had been. She had real magic, real power, real understanding. I wanted it desperately. She would have me study certain tomes, the report to her what I learned. If she wasn't satisfied, I would go back to my studies. I fantasized about her all the time, my domineering teacher, my mind slipping into twisted bondage scenarios. I was troubled by the fact I couldn't remember the sex I was certain we were having, but I remembered the pleasure well, so I was happy enough. We would practice spells, with her drawing with my blood to demonstrate, and I drawing with hers. Our lives interwove, she spilled her secrets into me and I spilled my life into her. She showed me whole new worlds. Not just through books. She took me to clubs, showed me how to be social, how to free myself from my shell. She showed me how to connect and stop caring. I quit my job. I quit my life. She was my life now.

One night, she came to my apartment. What followed can only be described as an orgy of magic and blood. We both got naked. I assumed we fucked, but of course she just fed, but slowly, so I almost remembered. There were so many symbols drawn in blood, so many carved into my skin that she rubbed her blood into. I don't remember it clearly, as her feeding kept my mind constantly cloudy. One of my greatest regrets is that I don't' remember our last night together. She opened herself to me. The last thing I remember was lying in bed, exhausted, confused, amazed, happy and in love with the woman next to me. She leaned over, then whispered in my ear, "I want to show you something." She opened her mouth. I noticed, for the first time, how long her canines were. Then they extended. My eyes widened in horror. Then her fangs were in me. She fed slowly, so I was aware. I thought, _This is impossible!_ even as I knew it was true. She was a vampire. It all made sense now. I felt pleasure and forgetfulness spreading from the bite and understood what our lovemaking really had been. And then my mind faded into that cloud of pleasant forgetfulness that overcomes those who are fed upon. And that is the last memory I have from my time as a living human.


	2. Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

I dreamed. I dreamed of voices and images and symbols and shapes. Unfathomable forces reaching out and examining me. Ancient spirits whispering to me out of the depths of time, telling me impossible secrets. I cannot recall what occurred in the dream, there is only a vague recollection.

The first clear memory I have is suddenly coming to, sitting up in my bed. I held my head. I felt strange. I felt like I could barely move, I was so exhausted – I was dead tired. I looked down at myself, expecting to see the marks from last night. As I looked over myself, I realized that not only had all the deep knife wounds disappeared, I was now clothed in a weird red shirt emblazoned with arcane symbols and shapes, like Serena's. Is_ it hers?_ I asked myself. _No, wait, she gave me one last night…_ I realized, as I recalled last night… last night… the fangs… Serena, she was…

I looked up, knowing I would see Serena. I had sensed her presence. She sat on a nearby chair, looking over at me.. I stared into her eyes, seeking answers, seeking affection – I found only curiosity and fascination.

Right as I was about to speak to her, the door to my right was kicked in with a loud bang. I looked over in time to see a pale person with strange goggles on throw something at Serena. Swinging my head around, I stared at her. I saw a wooden stake stick out from her chest, from her heart – she slumped over an instant later. _NO!_ I screamed in my mind. I tried to get up, to fight these intruders, but before I could move they had jammed a stake right into my heart. I had a moment to look down at it protruding from my chest before everything went blurry and my tiredness overwhelmed me, making me lose control of my muscles, making me fall limp onto the bed.

As I felt myself manhandled and carried out of my room, I realized then that she had changed me. _Holy shit, I'm a vampire too!_ I tried to think off all she had shown me, all her talk about blood and life essence, and it all came together. She had chosen me. She had decided to give me her gift. I felt elated for a moment, then I recalled what had happened. What was happening to me now. I was aware of being put into a bag, and then all went dark. I could still feel my body though, feel being carried on someone's shoulder.

_Am I dead? _I wondered. Bitterly, I thought _I become an immortal being, the secrets of the world open to me, and within ten seconds I have a stake in my heart. Figures._ It just seemed so completely unfair. I thought of Serena, and realized she was dead too. _Is this what it's like to be dead? You can't see or move, you just feel what's happening to your body?_

I was dumped onto a surface, felt another bag next to me. I heard something close above me, and realized I was in a trunk. I heard the car start, felt us move, felt the bag roll up next to me. I realized it was a body in the bag. _Serena's body… stuffed in here like mine._ I realized they were going to bury us. _Aren't our bodies supposed to turn to ashes or something? Oh well. Guess not. At least I'll be with Serena when they bury us, or dump us in the ocean or whatever. I suppose that's better than nothing._

Even so, how could I not be furious at the world? I had sensed a power, only just begun to realize that I could sense things and see things that had been invisible to me, pushed back the veil, and I got ten seconds of that taste before dying. It seemed like the story of my life. Coming so close to fulfillment, only to have it pulled away.

Almost got with my dream girl in high school, only for her to get with a douchebag with rich parents. I go depressive, brood, read Gothic Victorian poetry and Shakespearean tragedy.

I turn that into something good. Almost become well versed in literature and poetry. I start writing a little in my big reference book of literary works. Keep a diary in there too. Guess what happens then? I lose my tome, my special TOME of works that was my reference, my diary, my notebook. And it's found by some assholes, who pour derisively over every sensitive outpouring, every secret of mine, deciding to share it with the whole school.

I never fucking live that down, but I push through, become a stronger person, finish high school with decent grades, more than ready to escape that prison, start again. I'm going to a decent college. I'm ready to be cool. 3rd day, my roommate catches masturbating to weird ass porn. Never live it down.

I find friends through study groups and clubs. Enjoying my chemistry major, the predictability, the understanding it brings. The guaranteed future and money. And then my parents just get killed by Freon gas, just out of the blue.

Everything falls apart. Science no longer provides answers. No longer interests or comforts. I go on a drinking binge, screw up my GPA. I finish weak, but finish. Get my diploma with no one to cheer me.

Finally, I came to terms with shit. Finally ready to move on, on my own. Get passed up for my dream job because of that shit at the end screwing up my grades. So I'm in some soul crushing shit job. Living in a small shit apartment. Years of that. Into my thirties. Youth wasted. Lonely. Desperate. I turn to the occult. I find a beautiful woman who shows me the world. Opens my eyes. Changes my life, literally. AND 10 FUCKING SECONDS IN I'M DEAD. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry, whether its tragedy or comedy I'm living through. _Well, I guess I'm not living through it any more._

The car stopped. _Oh god, is this it? Am I just going to be in a hole in the ground forever, stuck with nothing but my thoughts for eternity? Is that all the afterlife is? Or is that just how it is for vampires? Did I become a vampire just in time to be denied an afterlife? Are you fucking KIDDING ME?_

The trunk opened and I felt myself lifted out. I was drenched in fear. _Oh God please no, oh God if you can hear me, I didn't ask for this, I didn't want to become this, I'm sorry I played with the occult, oh God please don't let it end like this, not this, not just an eternity of nothing after a shit life, no no please no!_

I felt my body being dropped on a surface. _This can't be it. It just can't. Fuck you world. Fuck you God, or whoever the fuck runs this place. I didn't deserve this._ I had become fear and bitterness incarnate.

I heard a strange sound. Next thing I knew, the bag was cut open, torn off me. I was lifted up onto my knees. I could see light, vague blurry shadows, but couldn't make out anything. _Where am I?_ Suddenly, I felt a sharp, almost unbearable pain in me chest. The next instant, I was awake and alive again. _Oh thank God! Thank you thank you thank you!_ I could see. I could move. I was ALIVE!

I looked out. I saw a theater, with figures sparsely seated in the audience rows. I realized I was on stage. I tried to stand, only to be shoved down by someone behind me. I realized that I was handcuffed and my captor was holding my wrists on top of that. _Seems redundant_ I sardonically thought, and tried to look behind me. I didn't get a good look, but I could see it was the guy who threw the stake at Serena. Then I noticed her, from the corner of my eye, on my right. I looked at her. She, too, was handcuffed and held, kneeling on the ground like me. She looked up at me, an unfathomable sadness in her eyes. She didn't say a word, but I knew what she was trying to tell me. "I'm sorry."

"Serena, what-" I began, but was interrupted by an obnoxious, high-pitched snooty british voice.

"Since you are a newly embraced fledgling, your transgressions will be forgiven just once, out of consideration for your ignorance." The source of the voice came into view from stage left, in front of me, past Serena.. He was the preppiest asshole I'd ever seen. A perfectly pressed suit and tie were complemented by neatly combed blonde hair, but the icing on the cake was his snooty face, the look of disdainful arrogance radiating from his blue eyes. _This guy would be right at home in any country club. What's he doing here? What's he talking about?_ He leaned close to me, and in that same, snobby, flippant way, he whispered to me, "I suggest you keep quiet." I could sense a menace in his words, a real danger behind that soft voice, and I could sense that he was a vampire. I decided to stay quiet.

As I looked over the assembled audience, I realized that they were all vampires. _What the hell is this? A vampire assembly? Why are they treating two of their own kind like this? What's going on?_

The pompous vampire began pontificating. "Good evening," he began. "My apologies for interrupting any business, or prior engagements you might have had this evening. It's unfortunate that the affair that gathers us tonight is a troubling one." As he spoke, he paced across the stage, putting on an air of utmost importance.

"We are here because the laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence…" He paused, grandly, and I couldn't help but notice that one of the audience, a black guy (or rather, a black vampire) was whispering into the ear of his companion. I could barely make out what he was saying in the silence.

"Little bitch, what's he doing?"

"…have been broken." The prep finished, in what he no doubt thought was a dramatic fashion. _Is that what this is about? I couldn't have done anything, there wasn't even time. Serena? What did you do?_

"As prince of this city, I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city the privilege of siring." _Is that it? Is it because she… sired me?_ I turned the word over in my head. It made sense, if it meant what I thought it meant. "Many of you have come to me seeking permission, and I have endorsed _some_ of these requests. However, the accused that sits before you tonight was not denied permission." _What?_ "Indeed, my permission was never sought at all." _Oh. Shit._ He paused to let his words sink in. "They were caught shortly after the embrace of this child." He said, gesturing dramatically towards me. I looked out over the audience, saw that they were all staring at me, putting me on the spot. It was strange, the way my stage fright popped up at this moment, of all times. I was clearly about to be executed, and here I was fretting about having everyone stare at me.

As the man (_vampire, I've got to stop thinking like that_) began speaking again, the attention mercifully shifted away from me. He twisted his face into an expression of remorse. "It pains me to announce the sentence, as up to tonight I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization. But as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression," he paused, looking down as though in regret, "is death."

After a moment of shock, I realized what that meant. _No! Serena can't die, I can't die! Wait, do I die too? But they can't…_

Looking up seriously at the audience, he intoned, "Know that I am no more adjudicator, than I am servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder to our community, that we must adhere to the code that binds our society, lest we endanger all of our blood."

He leaned down, next to Serena, whose head was held low, an unfathomable sadness and fury in her eyes as she stared at the vampire. With a dramatic gesture, he asked her, "Forgive me." Only I could see the thin smile on his face. All Serena returned was a hard stare.

He stood up. Solemnly, he proclaimed, "Let the penalty commence."

He stepped forward. I could see Serena, saw her for the last time, her beautiful face, her deep, rich green eyes. She looked at me and I could see affection there, bitterness, and a profound regret I could not even begin to fully grasp. And... something else, the slimmest sliver of a smile, a smile that she'd only had when she was about to show me some strange trick. For a moment, I had hope that she was planning some kind of escape. Then her eyes went glassy, and her head was forced down. _This can't be how it ends._ I saw, on the other side of her, a giant vampire, at least 7 feet tall. He lifted an enormous sword, a foot wide, 5 feet long, covered in arcane symbols (_how can I see all these details?)_ up to her neck. He raised the sword. I couldn't help myself. Desperately, longingly, I tried to cry out, but all that came was a whisper. "Serena!"

The sword fell.

I heard the sickening sound of flesh and bone being severed.

I saw her head fall from her body, roll on the floor next to me, and it seemed as though she was looking at me. I tried to cry out and found my throat had closed, and then I gasped in surprise at what happened to my sire next.

As I stared into her emerald eyes, they melted out of her sockets. An moment later her flesh was burning, turning instantly to hot ash, her beautiful black hair vaporizing, her wonderful features giving way to her skull. I saw her body, too, had burned away, leaving only a skeleton, and a moment later that began to burn away. A final moment later even that was gone, and all that was left was ash on the stage.

I stared, uncomprehending, at the pile of ash that had been the light of my life a moment ago. _She can't be gone, she can't. There was so much left for us to do, so much left for her to show me. We could have spent eternity together._ I looked up at the giant, at his inhuman, apelike, leathery face, at his solid red eyes. Everything about him screamed powerful, destructive, and he had that sword in his hand, but I didn't care. I looked up at him with depths of hate in my eyes I didn't know it was possible to summon. He either didn't see or didn't react. _Who cares? I'm probably next on the chopping block anyway._

As though in answer to my thoughts, the vampire in the suit (_did he call himself the prince? Is that his title?)_ announced to the audience, "Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny." _Progeny, huh? Well, I guess Serena did create me as a vampire. Does that make me an orphan? Doesn't matter, I'll be a pile of ashes soon anyway. Guess vampires do turn to ashes._ I was all but bitterly resigned to my fate. With Serena gone, apathy overcame me, and I no longer felt the fear that drove me when I thought I was going to be buried.

"Without a sire," the prince continued, "most Childer are doomed to walk the Earth, never knowing their place, their responsibility, and most importantly, the laws they must obey." _And whose fault is it I don't have a sire, you asshole? I can see where you're going with this bullshit. Just hurry up and get it over with._ "Therefore, I have decided that-"

"This is bullshit!" Someone in the audience felt the same way I did. I looked down, and saw the vampire the black guy had been whispering to earlier. He looked hispanic, though he spoke perfect english without an accent. He had a night black goatee, tanned skin, and piercing blue eyes that stared pure defiance at this "prince." He contrasted sharply with his opponent – where the Prince was all perfectly pressed luxury and order, every blonde hair settled into place, this vampire was rough in every way, wearing simple bluejeans and a tshirt that barely contained his mass of muscles. He was a strong working man, and he was not interested in bowing down to this suit. He was leaning forward, baring his fangs at the Prince, while restrained by a girl in a beret. They all looked out of place, wearing casual clothes instead of the professional gear everyone else had on. he Prince, to his credit, was seemingly unaffected, staring disdainfully down at the challenger. He was the only one who took it all in stride, though. I smiled, and watched as various members of the audience began conversing loudly, obviously agitated, with some getting up as though to leave. _At least now you know how much of an asshole you are, Prince._

After an extended pause, the Prince spoke, irritated. "If mister Rodriguez would let me finish." I felt something going on behind me on my wrists, but couldn't take my eyes from the back of the prince's head. "I have decided," he announced, becoming dramatic again, "to let this Kindred live."

The words took a moment to soak in. _I'm not going to die. I'm being spared. Was he going to spare me all along? He must have been. I didn't do anything wrong._ Suddenly, I felt the handcuffs coming off. I sagged forward, bringing my hands in front of me, rubbing my wrists. _Freedom._

"They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind, and be granted the same rights." I looked up, saw the prince gesturing towards me with one hand, an expression of gentle magnanimity on his face. I also saw the guy who stood up to the prince, Rodriguez, narrow his eyes at the prince in suspicious hostility. _What's going on here?_

"Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community." He said, adopting hurt tone. Then he was all business. "I thank you all for attending these proceedings. And I hope their significance is not lost. Good evening."

The audience began to walk out. Rodriguez and his group were the first out the door,. I tried to get up, only to be pushed back down to the floor by the giant. I looked up at him, now with fear, for the anger I had before was only born out of the fact that I thought my death was inevitable. I sensed how strong he was, I sensed how easily he could tear me apart. The two who had held myself and Serena exited stage right. Only myself, the giant, and the prince remained. The giant removed his hand and I stood up.

The prince began walking towards stage left, and gestured for me to follow. After looking up quickly at the giant, I hesitantly obeyed. The giant walked behind me, way to close for comfort. He stopped when we reached the edge of the stage, and just stood there. I was relieved. As I continued to follow the prince, a thought occurred to me. _I could kill this asshole right here. We're away from that… thing. He'd kill me as soon as he got over here, but I could maybe take out this prince first. Then again… I don't know what kills a vampire. Decapitation? How would I pull that off? He let me live. Maybe I should behave myself. But still… Serena._

Again, almost as though he had read my thoughts (_can he?) _he turned around and answered. "Your sire – tragic." His face and voice seemed to express real remorse, but then again, there had been that thin smile right before she was killed… "But you see, there is a strict code of conduct which we all must…" he paused, considering his words, "…must adhere to if we wish to survive."

He turned, walking away from me and gesturing for me to follow. He continued to lecture me as we walked. "When someone, anyone, breaks these laws, they undermine the well-worn fabric of our centuries-old society. Understand my predicament." _What's he trying to do? Does he think I'll forgive him for killing Serena? Still, he's powerful. I should hold my tongue. I have no idea what's going on, and I need answers. Heh. Even now, my need to understand everything is taking a front seat. Serena would have been proud._

"Allowing you to live makes me directly responsible for your subsequent behavior. So… what I am offering is _not_ generosity, but," he searched for the right words, "the opportunity to _transcend_ the fate woven by your sire." I narrowed my eyes at his back. _Is he trying to make me think this is Serena's fault?_

We reached the end of the hallway, and he stopped at a door, turning to face me. Gesturing towards the door, he proclaimed, "This is your trial. You will be brought to Santa Monica." _Santa Monica? I've been there once. Cheap vacation. Okay beaches. Dirty motel. What's there?_ Again, almost in answer to my thoughts, he said, "There, you will meet an agent by the name of Mercurio. He will provide the details of your labor"

_My labor._ I sneered inwardly. _So I'm working for you now. Figures. Escape from one pompous boss to one even more full of himself. And if he dislikes your performance, he doesn't just dock your pay. He has his giant cut your head off. Great._ Bitter as I was though, I was also resigned. _I should have known, last night, when I was experiencing greater pleasure than at any time in my life, that it couldn't last._ Suddenly, I heard a voice. It was not my own but it spoke from my head. It sounded like Serena. "_Don't despair,"_ it reassured me. "_There is an escape. Pleasures and worlds you never dreamed of. You'll see.__"_ My eyes widened in shock.

The prince clearly couldn't hear the voice. He proclaimed, "I've shown you great clemency. Prove it was more than a wasted gesture, fledgling. Don't come back until you do. Good evening." With that, he opened the door, and I stepped out.


	3. Chapter 2: Feeding

Chapter 2: Feeding

**Quick note: I just realized that I haven't put in a disclaimer yet. So here it goes. I don't own Vampire the Masquerade, Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines, or any of the characters, events, locations, items, animals, or other bizarre supernatural entities created as part of those franchises. They are the property of White Wolf, Troika, and/or Activision. So please don't sue me. Not that I have much money for you to take, anyway.**

**Also, I've made some changes to chapter 1. There was just a lot of unnecessary mess in there, so I cleaned it up a little, fixed a few grammar issues.**

**Vivienne S.: Thank you so much for producing such a well-thought out review! I agree with what you said about science not being cold. I majored in chemistry in college and am one of the only people I know who finds studying that subject thoroughly enjoyable. Of course, I never got into the occult. I guess Luke would have a different opinion than me on the matter, though it came about largely because of a tragedy in his life. Anyway, hope you enjoy future chapters!**

.

.

.

.

I stumbled out into the warm night.

As I heard the door click shut behind me, my mind reeled. I couldn't begin to handle the emotions that were assailing me. Grief. Terror. Relief. Confusion. Hope? I noticed the pain in my chest and decided to focus on that instead. It was simpler.

_That is a huge, gaping hole in my chest. It hurts like a bitch. How did I not notice that earlier? I mean, a lot was going on, but still!_

Shaking my head to try and clear it, I stumbled forward, down the stairs in front of me.

Just as I was beginning to ask myself what the hell I was supposed to do, I spotted a vampire to my left. He definitely didn't look the way I'd envision a vampire, although he certainly looked tough as hell. A huge, dark beard and long, matted hair framed a laughing and bestial face. With his open denim vest and torn jeans, he looked like he'd fit right in with some Hell's Angels. He leaned against the building, casually smoking a cigar.

With a laugh, he began talking to me. "What a scene, man! Hoo-wee! And they just plop you out here like a naked baby in the woods. How 'bout that? Look, kiddo. This is probably a lot for you to take in, so, uh, why don't you let me show you the ropes? Whaddaya say?"

I smiled, relieved. "Yeah, thanks. You're the first person to give me the time of day… er, night. I'm Luke. Who are you?"

Smiling, he answered. "I'm Jack. What's important is, I'm offering help. You make it back from Santa Monica with your hide, we'll trade life stories. 'Til then, I've got about," he squeezed his thumb and forefinger close together, "this much time. You in or out?"

I nodded my head. "In, of course. So what the hell…" I suddenly felt woozy. The pain in my chest got worse even as the wound started to itch like crazy, and I also felt…

Jack went on. "Now, we ain't got much time, but I figure SOMEBODY should fill you in on the bare bones stuff at least. Could save your hide…" He suddenly inspected me a little more intensely. I could barely concentrate on what he was saying. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I felt like my stomach was going to reach up and strangle me. "You look wobbly. You even had a drink yet?"

_A drink?At a time like this_… _oh_. It dawned on me then. I thought back to last night. Did I drink Serena's blood? It was all a blur. "I don't remember." I responded.

Jack's face lit up. "Oh man, we're popping a cherry here! Ah, you're gonna love this. Alright, check it out. _Blood – _it's your new rack of lamb, your new champagne… blood's your new fuckin' heroin kid! Get ready though, cause, heh, it's never as sweet as the first time."

The heroin reference threw me off. I'd never done drugs in my life. Jack looked like he'd done everything I could imagine and more. _Task at hand, Luke. Stay focused._ It was hard to think of anything, as a desperate hunger was starting to take away every shred of self control. I knew what I wanted, but not how to get it. "So, what do I do?"

"Well, down around the corner there, saw this human." _This human_… _because neither of us are human, are we? This is harder to get used to than I thought._ "Poor SOB, can't find his car… heh heh heh."

That laugh… something very creepy about this whole business. "So, what do I… I mean, how do I…?"

"You just walk down there, casual like, go up to him, bare those fangs of yours, and feed." He saw the confused look on my face. "Don't worry if you weren't captain of the wrestling team or whatever. It'll come so naturally, you'll think you've done it a thousand times before."I nodded, the hunger now driving me insane, making me salivate. "Now go for it. Be sure though – and this is important, so listen up – be sure not to drain 'em dry. It might be hard to resist, but don't kill 'em."

I looked at him in shock. "Trust me, I won't. I'm no killer." With that, I turned and walked away. _I'm glad to have a friend, but there's something just creepy about Jack. Or maybe it's just this whole vampire business._

As I walked into the alley, I realized that I had incredible night vision. I could see the guy, dressed in a suit, at the end, in darkness. As I got closer, I could… smell him. Sense the life flowing through him. As I got real close, the smell was intoxicating … my stomach roared in anger, and I felt this desire, this NEED. It was like… like hunger, thirst, and lust all rolled into one. I walked up to the man, my mouth salivating and open.

Suddenly, the man noticed me in the darkness. _How could he not see me before?Is he blind?_ "Ahh! What the hell?"

All I could think of was feeding, satisfying that urge. I lost control. I rushed forward, grabbed the man, and like Jack said, it felt like I'd done it a thousand times before. Next thing I knew, my teeth were at his throat, and I was feeding.

The first taste was pure ecstasy. I felt like a man dying of thirst in the desert finally finding water. Like a starving child suddenly given a feast. Like the horniest guy on earth orgasming while inside the hottest woman on earth. Complete and absolute satisfaction in every way, and more. I felt his life go into me. The essence of who he was, and… memories. I knew he was an ad man. He had a wife and kids. He had a mistress on the side that he had gone to see tonight. I experienced his life through a vague, vicarious vision as his blood, his life, his _soul _entered me. I drained and drained, wanting more, wanting this ecstasy to never end.

_**Yes, that's it, drain that little human, taste every last drop, because you know each sip is better than the last, and that final drop will be the best. Drain him dry and throw him away. **__Hell y__eah… wait, what?_

I suddenly came to my senses. I knew he was about to die. I had to stop. Even so, it took a tremendous force of will to pull my teeth out. As soon as I pulled my mouth back I wanted to sink my fangs in again. I shoved the man back in terror of what I might do. He flew back, slammed against the other side of the alley, and collapsed. I stared in horror.

_Is he dead?_ I knew he wasn't as soon as I asked. I could hear his heartbeat, sense the flowing of blood and life in his body, knew that I had drained him to the brink, but he would live. My senses were so sharp. I heard people walking and laughing a block away. I smelled every living creature around, I could sense their heartbeats. I felt superhuman. Looking down at the man, I felt like a monster. I didn't care.

I turned and ran from the man, back the way I'd come. I ran faster than I had in my life. I never worked out. Spent all day at a computer, in front of a TV, or reading. Yet, I could have easily kept up with an olympic runner. There is no describing the feeling of absolute power, absolute superiority over all humans that filled me then.

I stopped in front of Jack, breathing heavily. Not because of the running, but because of the way I felt. I couldn't find the words to express myself. They weren't needed. Jack just looked at my eyes and knew.

"Yeah… aw yeah, hell yeah, you're feeling it. I can see it in your eyes… you're a born-again predator. Feeling that blood bubbling inside of you, lifting you up. That's it kid. That's what it's all about."

_Yeah, I'm feeling it. I understand why you talk about blood the way you do, why you talk about the little humans like they're so far beneath us. I know what I am and I'm loving it. _I just grinned and nodded.

"Alright now, you've got the blood, you're feeling kickass, feelin' better than your best day livin' – but wait! It gets better!" I smiled, eager to hear more. "All Kindred… Kindred, that's uh, our word for vampire…" _I like it. Sounds way less corny than vampire._ "…all Kindred have some things in common, things that set them right square above humans on the food chain."

"Yeah? Like what?" I asked, eager to know the extent of my superhuman powers.

"Like sharper senses, a body that can take a beating, and, if you play your cards right, eternal life. That's no sure bet but still, a chance at immortality ain't a bad deal. And that's just for starters. Fringe benefits for joining the club."

"I can live forever? Seriously?"

"Well, you can still be destroyed, but forget the books and movies. Garlic? Worthless. A cross? Shove it right up their ass! Heh heh. A stake? Only if it catches you in the heart, and then you're just paralyzed." _Ah. That explains what happened. Hey, the hole in my chest is gone. Holy shit._ "Running water? No problem. I bathe… occasionally."

I couldn't help but chuckle a little at that. Jack brought me back down to earth.

"Now, a shotgun blast to the head – that's trouble boy. In fact, anything that separates your head from your body is bad. Fire? That's REAL trouble. Sunlight? You catch a sunrise and it's all over, kiddo. Get it?"

I nodded, sobering up a little, remembering Serena's death, becoming aware of my own mortality again. "Got it."

"Okay now-" Jack was cut off by the sound of an explosion, followed by gunfire. We both looked up in the direction the noise was coming from. I looked at him questioningly. "What the fuck is this?" _Great. Figures. Is this gonna get me killed after everything I just went through? Hell no. Whoever is doing this, I want to fuck them up. I have the blood flowing in me. Bring 'em on._

Jack turned to me. He had other ideas. "I'm gonna see what's going on. You head into this warehouse. Go up to the second floor. I'll meet you up there." With that, he opened up a nearby door into the adjacent building.

I nodded and walked in, realizing that my earlier bravado was probably misplaced. _Just the blood talking, I guess. Jeez that stuff was good, though._ I looked around. I saw a walkway up above me, but saw no way up except for a pile of junk. I took a running leap onto it, testing my newfound abilities. Again, I surprised myself, leaping an incredible height with a single bound. I jumped again, grabbed the railing, and swung up onto the walkway.

_Incredible. And my gym coach used to say I should exercise more. Man, if he were here right now, I'd love to rip his head right off._ I grinned. I wasn't a violent person, and I knew I didn't mean it, but if there was someone who deserved to die, it was that asshole. There was no doubt in my mind I could easily do it, too.

I sauntered on, and saw Jack up ahead, looking out some windows. He spotted me and gestured me over, whispering, "Get over here, but stay away from the windows." I cautiously obeyed, staying just to one side of the big window Jack was looking out of.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Jack replied. "It's a Sabbat Raid. The Sabbat, they're uh… Christ, I was hoping to spare you this stuff 'til later. The Sabbat… well, they're mostly mindless, bloodthirsty assholes, and that's all you need to know for now." I nodded. "The Sabbat got wind of the gathering here, so they figure they'd raise a little hell and put some heat on the new Prince."

"Prince? You mean that asshole in the suit that gave that big speech? What's he Prince of?" I asked, desperately trying to understand what was going on.

Jack chuckled, but then got real serious. "LA. Or so he claims. No time for the political rundown. Job one? Get you out of here alive. Sabbat may be mindless, but they hit like a Mack truck, like raging savages. Nothing a fledgling like you wants to deal with."

I nodded, further sobered the danger I was in. Jack nodded towards the window. I looked out.

I saw three vampires (_Kindred)_ outside. Two looked like humans and had automatic weapons. The third, in front of them, looked like a horrible monster, with a warped face and arms that went down to his knees, ending in claws. The giant who decapitated Serena stepped out into the alley, facing the three Sabbat.

"Die, Camarilla!" shouted one of the human-looking Kindred, as they both opened fire at the giant. _Here's hoping they kill one another._ The giant looked like he couldn't care less. He help up a hand, and blue energy emanated from it. _A spell?_ Suddenly, I saw two glowing wolves coalesce behind the two gun-wielding Kindred. They pounced, knocking them to the ground and ripping out their throats. The bestial Kindred charged, using his hands like an ape to move. The giant just held up his hand, still glowing, and blew, almost like a kiss. The bestial Kindred turned to ash in mid-stride, right as the two kindred behind him burned as well. The wolves dissipated into thin air.

_Holy shit. What power. To think I ever thought of taking on him or his master. I definitely do not want to be on his bad side._ I stared in awe. He looked up at me, his pure red glowing eyes staring into mine. I involuntarily flinched. He just looked back down, turned around, and left the way he came.

I heard Jack start talking again. "Dumb frenzied Sabbat bastards. Alright, we gotta vamoose out the back. I'll stay and keep a watch out, you get us into the office at the end of the hall. You ever picked a lock, kid?"

I nodded. "Yeah, actually. Got a book on it and everything. Just as a hobby, of course." I'd gone through a phase where I escaped from my mundane life by getting into petty crime and espionage fantasies.

Jack grinned. "Sure, whatever man. Just take this and get it open." With that he handed me a lockpicking tool. I looked it over, impressed. "Get going kid."

I looked up at him. "Hey, Jack? You'll explain all this shit to me when we get out of here, right?"

He looked at me sympathetically. "Sure, if I have time. Now get to it."

I walked off, wondering if I was ever going to understand this madness.

My thoughts drifted as I played with the tumblers in the lock. I was amazed at how well I could feel them falling into place, how delicate my fingers could be. I figured I'd be here for an hour, and yet I could probably have this wrapped up in a minute. I was constantly being reminded of my newfound capabilities.

My thoughts drifted back to the time I'd spent learning this skill. In my late 20s, I started looking for ways to escape the mundane, routine, antisocial cage my life had become. The only thing that kept me going was the thrill of discovery. The chance to learn something new and exciting. I got into spy novels, fascinated with the way they could learn anything, the way no secret was safe from them.

As the tumblers clicked into place, I smiled to myself. _The secrets of this world are going to be mine. Serena promised them to me, but I'll find them on my own if I have to._

I opened the door and walked in, only to be startled by Jack, who somehow got in before me. "Jack, how-"

He looked up at me, grinning. "Uh, shortcut." _Totally inadequate explanation, but whatever._ "Well, nicely done. Not exactly and angel in life, were you?"

I smiled. I really had never done anything all that exciting. The only locks I ever picked were my own, for practice. The most illicit thing I'd ever done was hack the company network for fun, and even then I just looked around, not having the balls to do anything. Still, I wanted to impress Jack. He didn't know who I was or how I lived. Hell, I could become a whole new person in this new life. The thought thrilled me. I just nodded and said, "I had my moments."

Jack just smiled and said, "Cool. Now if you want a lesson on how really not to act, take notes from those Sabbat assholes. You're a big bad vampire… yeah, great, congrats – now keep it to yourself. You go roar and beat your chest and that's what you can expect."

_Okay, so keep the vampire shit to myself. But, how secret? I mean_… "Well, can I tell anyone? I mean," I thought of my occult group, then of my old gym teacher, "I have old friends, old scores to settle. Why-"

Jack cut me off. "Why? Same reason you don't let humans see you feeding. It's why the wolf doesn't want the sheep to know he's there. It's also why you don't go juggling dumpsters or outrun the 8:15 from Sacramento. And why you didn't know any of this when you woke up this morning."

I nodded, understanding. _Complete secrecy. No exceptions. Makes sense._ "Got it."

"Keep our secret and you make things easier on all of us. We're living in the age of cell phone cameras… fuckups ain't tolerated. Makes sense enough, right?" I nodded. "Well, it ain't a casual thing for a fledgling like you."

I looked at Jack inquiringly. "How so?"

Jack sighed. "That party back there – with the guy in the suit and Magilla Gorilla – the assholes that put your sire to death?" I nodded, the bitter anger rising up inside me again. I fought it down. _You need to learn._ "That's the Camarilla. Hmph. They make a tidy business out of enforcing 'vampire laws' like this one"

Trying to express my understanding back to Jack, I asked, "So the Camarilla are like the vampire police?"

Jack smirked. "You could say that. I'll tell you what I think some other time maybe. I like to let people form their own opinions…" I raised an eyebrow, sensing that a lot was going unsaid.

Changing the subject, Jack said, "Alright, back to the immediate situation. Now, don't worry, cuz I know the area a little, and you know what? I'm glad we're in this situation, you and I. It illustrates a point: you gotta utilize your surroundings."

I nodded. "What exactly does that mean?"

"You do what you gotta do. Theft, destruction of property, breaking and entering. Heh. These'll be the least of your sins before the night's out. Just don't let anyone know you're Kindred and keep your face off the 10 o'clock news, and you're good to go."

"Okay," Jack ordered, "so look around here. We gotta get out the back there through that magnetically sealed door. Must be a key card someplace…"

I looked over at a nearby computer. All the info I needed would be there. Sitting down, I quickly poured through the few files, found out that I needed to open the nearby safe, and ran into a wall of password-protected security. _Hmph. I've hacked far better._ I was no master at hacking, but I played my office network like a fiddle when I got bored with work. The safe clicked open. The card was the only thing inside. I held it up.

"There we go. Now take that keycard and head out the back. I'll meet you out in the alley there. I'm gonna check out things from topside."

With a nod, I headed to the door, swiped the keycard, and left. I was feeling pretty cool. Hacking, lockpicking, supernatural powers, and I was starting to get a feel for things. My confidence died on arrival the instant I reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the alley.

They saw me before I saw them. I heard gunfire, turned towards the sound, and saw two kindred with automatic weapons firing at me the instant I felt the bullets impact my body. The pain was excruciating. I felt flesh rip, bone snap. _Oh shit, Is this how I die?_ But I knew I could still move, despite now being thoroughly ventilated. I tried to go back the way I came, when I heard a gurgling scream from down the alley, felt the gunfire stop. I hid behind the open door and peered around it.

I saw Jack, lifting one of the Kindred up, slamming him into the ground and jamming a knife into his heart. His body burned to ashes. My relief was overwhelming. The other Kindred had turned around, and began firing at Jack point blank. I ran forward, hoping to help Jack, despite the pain I was feeling.

Jack definitely didn't need anyone's help. His body became covered with blue electricity. I didn't see him move. One moment he was at the far end of the alley, the next he was standing in the spot where the other Sabbat Kindred had been, and the Sabbat guy was flying back at high speed. He landed next to me, ashing on impact.

Staring down at his ashes for a moment, I realized how powerful all these Kindred were. _How do I get this kind of strength?_ I staggered forward, the bulletholes making it hard to walk.

Jack was mumbling when I reached him. "Fuckin' waste of unlife, these Sabbat assholes. You get winged?"

I looked down at myself. Plenty of bloody spots and holes in my clothes. I still couldn't believe I was alive. I just nodded.

"Hey hey! Look at them potholes! Those'll close up soon enough – better feed though. Makes it go faster." I felt those bullets that were still in me being pushed out, felt the holes itching, knew they were healing. I could also feel the hunger, the thirst for blood growing in me once again.

Jack sniffed the air. I did the same, becoming vaguely aware of a nearby human. "There's someone down the stairs here. Not the freshest catch, but he'll do."

"Does that matter?" I asked.

Jack responded, "When it comes to feeding, it's quality blood you're looking for. Bums, whores, and lowlife don't pack the same punch that a healthy well bred human will. Juicebags with a pedigree: that's the good stuff. But you take what you gotta get. You ever had a Ph.D kid? Oh, that's good stuff."

_So education and intelligence affect blood quality? Interesting. I wonder how this whole thing actually works._ "Good to know. Thanks Jack."

"Remember what I said though: don't kill them. Least not the innocent ones." _Innocent ones?_"You're a monster now, make no mistake… one of the damned and the fallen. You need to hold onto every last shred of Humanity you have.

That phrase... the Damned and the Fallen... hit an old nerve in me, one I'd thought long dead. I shuddered. I was intrigued, though, about this moral or philosophical code. "What do you mean? What happens?"

"An innocent's and innocent. You kill one, even a worthless bum, even by accident, and it's gonna cost you a piece of your own humanity, bring you closer to that Beast you got welling up inside of you."

The way Jack spoke about this Beast, I knew he respected and feared it. _The Beast_… _was that the voice?The one telling me to kill that man?_ "What Beast?"

"The Beast is always there, waiting to take over. When it does, it's like a wild animal wearin' your skin… desperate, scared, reckless. He'll do anything to survive, and it's you that has to deal with the consequences."

_This isn't some abstract concept... I heard that voice. This is real. Well, I'm not going to kill anyone if I don't have to, anyway, so that works out._ "So I can't kill anyone, especially while feeding. Got it."

Jack shook his head. "I said innocent humans. If some asshole levels a twelve gauge your way, you drain him, skin him, and bash in his skull." I was filled with equal parts amusement and disgust. I was still getting used to the Kindred thing. "Self-preservation is a vital part of humanity, after all. My favorite part, in fact." I nodded, soaking this all in. "Look, there's three things that bring out the Beast: killing innocents, going hungry, and being in danger. Try to keep from going hungry without killing your food, and you should be good. It's a fine line. Alright, now go feed. Careful though… bums drain fast."

Nodding, I headed down the alley, still smarting from the previous gunfire. I smelled the man, smelled his blood, the smell of a man drunk on mouthwash, brain fried and gone. He didn't even notice me as I came up, he just swayed back and forth, muttering to himself. Still, he smelled like a meal to me.

I sank my teeth into him. I felt the same general feeling as before: the satisfaction of that all-consuming hunger/thirst/lust, but to a far lesser degree. I felt his memories pour in, but there was nothing worth seeing, no substance to any of it. _Hell, he barely remembers his own life. I wonder if the lack of worthwhile memories is connected to the low quality of the blood_. I felt like all I got was a brief taste of terrible food before I was forced to pull out. Of course, that voice was there again, telling me to finish him off, but once again I resisted.

_Well, at least the bullet holes are gone,_ I thought, looking down at myself. Still, I had a terrible taste in my mouth I wanted to wash away, and a general feeling of dirtiness.

Making my way back to Jack, I'm sure my distaste was visible on my face. "Not quite as good, huh? You can do worse. There's some rats down the way." I looked at Jack incredulously. "You think I'm kidding? You can survive feeding on animals, if you can stomach that kind of thing. Blech."

I was intrigued. "So how much worse are animals that humans?"

"Give it a try, see for yourself." Jack responded, pointing at the scurrying rodents.

I looked over at them, scurrying around, remarkably close to both of us. With sped-up reflexes, I darted down, grabbed up a rat, and held it nest to my face. I looked at the squirming animal for a second before sinking my teeth in.

It was absolutely godawful. It barely lasted a second before dying, providing almost no sustenance whatsoever. And that taste… like the blood was rotten or something. I threw the rat to the ground, almost gagging in revulsion, I looked up angrily at Jack, only to see him laughing at me.

"Ha ha! Ratsucker! Hey, I don't care what you do, but, uh, just so you know, polite vampire society looks down on that kind of thing."

I spat, face drawn up in disgust, realizing I'd been the butt of a joke. "Very funny, asshole, very funny."


	4. Chapter 3: Killing

I jumped at the sound of metal clanging nearby. Jack held up a finger as he peered out of the alley we were in, through a chain-link gate. "Keep it down," he whispered, "got someone round the way here." He looked carefully around the edge of the building we were standing next to, then back to me. "Not too much of a threat by himself, but you never know if there's more in shouting range. You should sneak past him."

I nodded, peering out from the fence. I had some experience sneaking around. Again, the whole espionage fantasy thing. Sneaking around the office, stealing staplers, leaving weird notes, messing with people's heads. "So," I whispered, "where am I trying to get to?"

"The building across from us, with the garage door? There's some double doors on the far side. I'll meet you inside. Just stay low and stick to the shadows. Don't let him see you." With that, he carefully opened the gate behind him.

Crouching low to the ground, I crept forward. _Slowly, Luke, slowly._ P_atience is key. Whether you're playing with tumblers, trying to crack an encryption, or avoid detection, you have to make sure everything you do is deliberate, careful, and quiet. Impatience only makes things take longer._ Repeating Serena's old lesson in my mind, I calmed my fears.

Hiding in the shadows behind a dumpster, I recognized another innate Kindred ability. I was able to move far more quietly, far more easily avoid making noise than in life. I felt the shadows envelop me. Looking around a pile of boxes, I saw my enemy. His hands had been warped into long claws. His face was a weird, bunched mass of skin folds, with his eyes barely visible and his nose seeming to be gone, little more than slits in the skin. His skin was slimy and hairless, almost sluglike. _God, that's disgusting. He barely even looks human anymore. Thank God I didn't end up like that._ Not wanting to be on the receiving end of either his nasty looking claws or the tire-iron he was holding, I snuck around the other side of the pile. I noticed then that he was limping, was covered in gashes, but just kept pacing around, muttering to himself. I quickly scurried into the nearby double doors.

Jack was already waiting for me in the warehouse. "Keep it quiet, the rest of them are inside here," Jack informed me, gesturing further inside the building. "Seems that shovelhead outside," he said as he pointed back out at the lone Kindred, "just got separated from his pack. He's wounded too. Go take care of him." I gave Jack an incredulous look. I didn't know a thing about fighting, and I'd never killed anyone. "Don't worry… he's probably greener than you are."

"Greener than me? What, did they embrace him five minutes ago?"

"The Sabbat, you see, they don't exactly have the most rigorous training program. Hell, that poor sod is lucky if he knows he's a vampire." _And I thought I had it bad, being thrown out here like this._ "That's the Sabbat. They just turn 'em, hit 'em upside the head, and use 'em as shock troops, cannon fodder. Go put him out of his misery."

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the concept of not even knowing you were undead. _Task at hand, Luke. It's time to take a life_… _er, or not?_ Inhaling deeply to calm myself, I crept back out into the alley. Coming around behind the boxes, I saw him standing there, looking down at his warped hands in what seemed like disbelief, muttering to himself. _God, I would be too. Poor guy. Got mixed up in a bad crowd. And now he's going to die. Again._

I had no idea what I was going to do, but the Sabbat decided for me. He suddenly whirled around, then froze in his tracks, spotting me.

We both froze, unsure of what to do. _Just pound him with your fists._ I stood up straight and put my fists up, right as he rushed headlong at me.

His tire iron connected with my left temple. The pain made me want to puke. It was only the adrenaline that kept me together – or rather, it felt like adrenaline, but was really just the blood coming to my aid when I subconsciously called out for it in fear. Stumbling back from the blow, I saw him come at me again. _Not this time._

Stepping to the side, I dodged his vertical blow. I didn't hesitate. The Beast seemed to be guiding my actions. Lashing out with my fists, I pummeled his face, viciously lashing out – and then he was on the ground.

I was on top of him right away, instinct guiding me. He lashed up at my face with those nasty, dirty claws. They burned when they broke the skin. I noticed he had dropped the tire iron. Grabbing it, I smashed his face in with it. Over, and over, and over. He wasn't attacking any more. He was just holding up his hands, trying to shield himself. I just smashed again and again, almost mechanically, totally disconnected from my own actions. When I brought the iron down for the last time, he turned to ash then and there, and I fell to the ground, suddenly sitting on nothing.

It was only then, when I was sitting in my opponent's ashes, that I realized what I'd done. _He's_… _dead. I killed him. It was so easy. __**Of course it was. He was weak. You're strong. Kill or be killed. Only way to stay alive.**_

Shaking my head to clear the voice out, I stumbled back into the warehouse, still a little groggy from the blow to the head and what I had just done. Jack nodded approvingly. "That's that. Sounds like we got another pack moving in, though. The Sabbat're going all out. You better stay underground, try to avoid stray bullets. Head through here." He gestured to a grate behind him, with a maintenance access ladder. "Keep it quiet. And keep that tire iron handy."

I nodded, very aware of the danger around me. That one guy had been messed up, but if I was up against multiple kindred… I quietly descended, entering some kind maintenance area.

I saw another poor deformed SOB in the corner, face in his hands, muttering to himself, oblivious to the world. I carefully snuck up behind him, hoping to get the drop on him. Once I was behind him, I realized I didn't know what to do. _How do I kill him quickly, before he can attack me?_ _I could smash his head in_… _but it would take more than one hit. I have to take off his head or smash it in one blow. __**I have an idea**_… The Beast's idea was horribly brutal, but I knew it would work.

Grabbing his head from behind, I put the tire iron in front of his face, then shoved the long end into his skull through the eye socket.

He was too shocked to even move. I smashed the iron into the back of his skull, once, twice, boom, out through the other side. _God this is sick._ And yet, there was that exhilaration, that feeling of power that was intoxicating.

The Sabbat tried to struggle. Grabbing both ends of the tire iron, I twisted, breaking his neck and spinning his head around to face me. He got one good look at his killer before turning to ash._.I can't believe I just did that. I really need to be careful before I take suggestions from this Beast._

_**Can it you pansy. It worked, and that's all that matters.**_

I whirled around at a sound behind me. It was just Jack. "Not sure what's goin' on… sounds like the Sabbat's getting scattered. Be careful goin' forward here… could be a whole mess of 'em up holed up." I took another breath to calm myself. _More violence, more danger, just great._"Hey, your sire teach you anything about your Disciplines?" I looked at him in confusion. Serena's words reached out to me through time, coaxing out memories of blood rituals and strange words…

"Um, yeah, I think so. Like, blood magic rituals? She taught me some. Why, you know something about it?" _Please tell me you can teach me this stuff._

"Oh, that's right, she was Tremere." He saw my confused look. "Uh, you know, your clan?" I shook my head, having no idea what he was talking about. "Aw, shit. Don't have time for this. Um, look, just try and remember what you can. Might help you stay alive." With that he left out the door he'd come in.

With a sigh, I sat down. _This is too much. I need to think. I'm in danger. Crazy, shock troop Sabbat everywhere. Gotta keep myself safe. _I thought back to the first spell she'd shown me. Auspex. I visualized it in my mind, willed myself to see. I just needed to chant the incantations, keep the symbols in my mind, and draw them in blood on the ground to activate it. I was just beginning to wonder how I'd cut myself open to draw the symbol when it worked. I was aware. I could _see_.

_Huh_… _okay, so I don't need to pour out my blood for this to work. I feel_… _ hungrier. Like I used up some of my blood. Whenever a spell worked, the blood would vaporize, spent to activate the magic. Can I simply burn the blood in my veins? I suppose so._ Armed with the knowledge that I'd see my enemies before they'd see me, I carefully proceeded through the door in front of me.

There was a big generator ahead. I could see the aura of the vampire beyond it. Dark purple, almost black. _Explains Serena's aura._ I waited until he was facing the right way, then came around behind him. He was deformed like the others. I tried to kill him like the last guy, but as I reached up to jam the iron through his eye, he spotted me in the corner of his vision and spun to face me.

Swinging around, his claws lashed out. I held the tire iron to my face, so only my hands and arms got scratched. Retaliating, I swung at him wildly, knocking him back against the wall. _Okay, this is my first fair fight, but I can do this._ He rebounded back at me, leaping toward my feet, trying to tackle me. I backed up, then kicked him in the face as he hit the ground. He tried to get up. I didn't let him. I smashed the tire iron into his head over and over, fear and blood-adrenaline blasting through me, just desperate to destroy this monstrosity. And suddenly I was pounding a pile of ashes.

I saw Jack coming in through Auspex before I actually saw him. I sighed, glad that I could see the emotions of those around me, as little slivers of color in the aura. Serena had made me memorize what all the colors in an aura could mean, so I'd know if someone was running in while angry or afraid. _That's something that might give me a chance. _"I think they're clearing out. No need to go stirring up the hornet's nest until we know the score though. Let's head through here." He held open the door.

Wandering in, I saw two more deformed Kindred. Whispering to me very quietly, so that he would have been inaudible if not for my superior hearing, he said, "Alright. Now you Tremere have a trick nobody else does. Blood magic. You know any?"

I thought back. There had been spells Serena said I couldn't do yet, but she'd shown me how. Circles of power and weird geometric arrangements of ancient symbols. We'd studied the theory extensively, I'd even practiced with Serena's blood, but I couldn't get the more advanced ones to work, only she could. _Can I do them now that I'm Kindred? Do I just have to focus on the symbols instead of drawing them out, like with Auspex?_ I nodded. "Okay, good. I got your back. You hit one guy with that shit, and I'll get the other."

I smiled, glad to have backup. I suddenly thought of a way I could take on both these guys, impress Jack. With a smile, I decided to try Trance, the second spell I'd ever pulled off. t wasn't the blood magic Jack had mentioned, but I knew I could pull this one off, so I figured I'd start with it. Carefully willing myself into the mind of another, I Dominated his will, entering his mind, making it my own. A moment later and he was staring off into nothingness.. The other guy looked at him, concerned, trying to get his attention.

Focusing all my will on the second guy, I blasted out with my mind, recalling the old lessons. "_Blood is the essence of all life, and much that does not live as well. Take their life essence directly from them. Rip it from their flesh and make it your own._" Serena's old lessons came back to me. I carefully thought on the circle of energies she'd have me memorize, and I suddenly saw all the symbols appear in red around his head. He was knocked back in shock and pain as a thousand small cuts appeared on him. I smiled, realizing that maybe I wasn't so helpless after all. I even felt a little blood flow into my mouth, flying across the room from him out of the cuts, filling me with pleasure and power.

With a predatory smile, I rose from the shadows, clutching the tire iron in my hand. We rushed at one another. I smashed him across the head while he swiped upwards with filthy claws. He backed up, stunned by my blow, as I spit blood out of my mouth where he'd ripped my flesh open. _I've got this guy._

As I rose my arm to swing again, it was grabbed from behind. I looked back to see the other Kindred, who had been in the Trance, holding me. He reached around and grabbed my other arm, pinning me. _Oh shi-_

My thoughts were silenced by the nasty cuts across my face, my throat, my chest. They burned terribly, and I cried out in pain. The Kindred in front of me just laughed and continued slashing, ripping me apart. I heard Jack mutter, "Aw, shit."

_Damnit! There has to be something I can do! _In that moment of crisis, memory and adrenaline came together. I pushed with all my will, remembering the advanced spell we'd been working on, remembered the way Serena had been praising my progress, told me how powerful I could be if I mastered this. My desire to impress her, impress Jack, and my anger, over her death, over the assholes slashing my face up, all came together.

I screamed in bestial rage. I summoned from the depths of my supernatural blood a terrible pain.

The Sabbat Kindred raised his claw to strike.

An instant later, he was puking blood. I stared for a moment, amazed it had worked, before I was released and felt something wet and nasty impact my back. I quickly sidestepped to avoid the blood puke from my former captor.

I saw Jack, right behind the guy who'd been holding me, knife in hand, puking blood as well. _Shit._ I just gripped my tire iron and went over to the asshole who'd been ripping my face open.

He was doubled over with pain and nausea. Laughing, I swung the tire iron up into his face, sending him tumbling back, and causing him to ash on impact with the ground. I turned my attention to the other Sabbat. Raising the iron, I smashed his ribs. He couldn't get up or defend himself. He fell to the ground. I wailed at his skull. He made a feeble attempt to raise himself, but as I smashed his skull in he, too, burned. I felt utterly triumphant. I felt like an apex predator, slaughtering those weaker than me. I felt like a master of the universe, able to rework reality to fit my whims. I felt like a _god._

Jack looked me over, impressed, as he wiped blood from his mouth. "Nice, kid. Didn't think you had it in you." I smiled. _Didn't know I had it in me, either. Goddamn._ "Head through here. You'll come to an elevator round the way. I figure you can handle yourself from here out." I was proud to hear that coming from Jack. _For the first time in my life, I might actually earn some respect from someone. Nice change of pace from my old life. I really have been reborn._

Turning around, I moved forward. At the end of a hall, I entered another storeroom. Two more Sabbat monsters. They rushed me. Summoning my strength, my fear, my desire to cause pain that had pervaded me earlier, I hit them with Purge. While they were puking their insides out, I smashed their skulls in until they turned to ash.

_Man, I'm hungry. I using all these powers has burned away my blood. Makes sense,_ I thought as I went through the next door. I saw Jack standing there. He was laughing. "Fucking humans! Gangbangers, protecting their turf. Ah man, I'm thinking its Sabbat moving in up there. It's the fucking locals, about to take one for the hood."

I couldn't help but smile in relief, at the absurdity of a bunch of gangsters thinking they could do anything to someone like Jack or me. "So what now?"

"They've probably seen too much. Here," Jack said, taking a revolver out of his vest and handing it to me, "take this thirty-eight. Fuckin' pea shooter, but it should take down humans with a few hits."

I'd never held a gun in my life. _Plenty of firsts tonight._ "Thanks Jack."

"Yeah, well, I want it back, so don't go die and lose it. I don't use guns much. They're noisy, clumsy, and they don't do shit against vampires. Still, a Kindred's gotta keep up with the times, and in downtown LA, that means comin' strapped."

I nodded, absorbing the lesson about guns and vampires. "So guns are completely worthless against Kindred?"

"Well," Jack responded, "some are more lethal than others. Watch out for shotguns. Those things smart." I nodded. "Now head upstairs and clear them out. Can't have 'em running their mouths about any of this. I'm gonna make sure there's no stragglers outside."

With a nod, I got in the elevator. I could feel my hunger welling up inside. _**Humans**_… _**above us**_… _**I can smell them**_… _**fresh blood**_…

I sauntered casually out of the elevator, into a warehouse. I saw some stereotypical gangster asshole, strutting around like he was the hottest shit on Earth. He had a dew rag on and some kind of sports jersey I couldn't help but laugh. _You have no clue, do you buddy?_

He turned towards me. "You think I'm funny, asshole? Why don't you laugh at this?" He pointed his gun at me. I laughed at it.

He fired.

I kept laughing.

He kept firing, watching with horror as the bullets passed through me, as I casually strolled up to him.

I was right in front of him. He fired point blank at my head. I smiled. He stared. He tried to shoot again, but the gun went "click" instead of "bang" when he pulled the trigger.

_God, this power is incredible. The look on his face is absolutely priceless. The world is definitely not going to miss this asshole._ With a smile, I pointed my gun at his head, pulled the trigger, and watched his brains splatter down onto the concrete

My moment of gloating superiority was ruined by a baseball bat smashing me across the back of the head. It actually hurt a little more than the bullets. Turning around, I saw another gangster staring at me in shock. _Probably expected me to go down just like that._ I just grabbed his bat with one hand, grabbed his neck with the other, leaned in, and fed.

The blood wasn't bad. Not great, but not bad. Interesting life memories. Dumbass wasn't poor, didn't need to do this, just wanted to be cool to his crew. I didn't feel bad in the least about draining him dry. And that last drop… that last little taste, absolutely exquisite. It was like the true essence of his life was there in the last drop, and as I sucked it up I felt absolutely fulfilled, if only for an instant.

_**I told you it would be good. Imagine how good that first human would have tasted if you'd drained him dry**_…

I shuddered and dropped the limp body. _That was good. I'm gonna have to be sure to control myself in the future. I'm not going to become that monster. Pretty sure that guy didn't count as innocent, though._ Feeling high on the blood and the power, feeling like the star of some movie, I grabbed the bat in one hand and held the gun in the other, ready to fuck someone up.

Wandering through the piles of junk, I found Jack at a door at the far end. With eager eyes, I asked, "What now? Who else do we need to fight?'

Jack smiled at the look in my eyes. "Nobody. We're all done."

Feeling disappointed, I asked, "That's it?"

"That's it. Just like that and it's all over. Everyone slinks back to their little corners of the city for the night." Jack held out his hand. I stared, confused for a moment, then put the gun in his hand. He pocked his weapon. "At least, til the next night, when the Camarilla finds some way to strike back. Parry, dodge, spin and all that. And so on and so on…"

I shook my head, trying to reconcile the world I had known my whole life with this one of seemingly incessant violence. "This is how it always is?"

"Well, to be honest, you came along at an… interesting time. The Camarilla, the Sabbat… in LA these are the new kids on the block. There's already plenty of Kindred had stakes down in California long before them." I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. _Just when I think I'm starting to get a handle on this_… "Now we got every ancient Kindred rivalry playing out all over the city. Lotta tension out there. Lotta fear. Lotta jittery, high strung predators clingin' to their little pieces of eternity."

_Rivalries, territories. I need to know this stuff._ "Hey, so about that promise you made earlier, that you were gonna fill me in on this stuff…" I was interrupted by a knocking on the door.

"Sorry, kid. Looks like they're looking for you outside; I guess you got a cab to catch. Was hoping to fill you in on a little more, but… hell, you'll figure it out." _I sure as hell hope so._ "If you're ever in downtown LA, come down to the Last Round. I'm usually around there."

I nodded in appreciation, glad to have one friend in this world, at least, hoping I'd see him again. As I was on my way out, he left me with some words of wisdom, "Watch out kid, now you're on your own. Tonight's stuff, that was child's play. The politics… it's the politics that'll get you killed." Jack threw back his head and laughed. I nodded soberly, my sense of invulnerability once again collapsing. I waved Jack a final goodbye before stepping out the door.

.

… …

… …

… … … …

… … … …

… … … … … ...

… … … … … … …

At the bottom of the stairs there was a standard yellow cab. I opened the door and got in the back. The cab driver seemed very weird. Human, but weird. I couldn't see his eyes because of the shades he was wearing. At night. While driving. Without a word, he drove off. There was no sound in the car but the radio, playing some song I couldn't recognize.

"We can live beside the ocean  
Leave the fire behind  
Swim out past the breakers  
Watch the world die…"


	5. Chapter 4: Home Sweet Haven

**Hi everyone. Sorry for the delay in getting out a new chapter, life has been kicking my ass lately. Work, drama, bullshit, the usual. So for this chapter, I'm trying something a little different out. Since there's probably not a lot of interest out there in seeing the events of the game played out in text form, I'm going to try and focus more on internal character development. Get inside the head of someone trying to deal with being a vampire. I'm considering skipping around a little as the story progresses, only focusing on those events that drive character development forward and prompt internal speculation. I'm also considering altering the plot just a bit to make it a tad more interesting for you readers, while keeping things true to the general flow of the original.**

**This is in part based on the suggestion of Rednightmare. Thank you again for your very useful and constructive review! I'm definitely going to change the dialogue a bit. I was just kind of getting warmed up in the introduction part of the game, and so kept things mostly true to the original. Thanks for noticing the changes to the dialogue, Flying Frog. They were pretty subtle. The fact you noticed them shows that you're a true VTM:BL fan.**

**To Loving Companion Cube: I have not played the original P&P game. I was interested for awhile, but Vampire the Masquerade was discontinued before I had a change to find a group and play. I've read a lot of the backstory and the rules and such, but no, I'm not working by those rules. Since the world officially ended in Gehenna, I figure it doesn't really exist anyway. I like to think VTM:BL is a similar but different world, where Gehenna was BS and never happened. Makes me happy to think it just keeps going and Beckett was right all along. Seriously though, I don't know what White Wolf was smoking when they decided to discontinue the VTM series. I wish I could find people to play the original with, though.**

**So, without further ado, enjoy the new chapter.**

.

.

.

.

.

"We're here," announced the driver.

I blinked, startled. I realized that the cab had stopped, that we were parked. I had allowed my mind to drift, my eyes to unfocus. I had spent the past twenty minutes or so staring out the window, but without any recognition, any attempt to figure out where I was or where I was headed. My mind had formed no thoughts, made no attempt to understand my situation. _I suppose if I was still human I would have been asleep. I'm just sick of trying to make sense of this, I suppose._ Though I felt no physical weariness, my mind was ready to cease all attempts to organize the world. I just wanted to sit here forever, drift away into oblivion.

"_Come now,"_ Serena's voice said to me from within my mind, "_that's not the Luke I embraced. Arise, and understand your world."_ The shock of hearing her woke me up, forced me to contemplate, to question, to understand. I focused my eyes, and my mind began organizing the data, creating artificial labels and meanings, creating a matrix of order over the random assortment of colors and lines. I saw a building in front of me. Written upon it were the words 'Tripp's Pawn.' In an effort to understand the meaning behind this, I formulated a question to the driver. "Where's here?"

The driver answered, "There are apartments above the pawn shop. One's been given to you as a haven." _Haven. Home. _"The entrance is in that alley there." He reached in his pocket and handed me a key ring with three keys. "This one's for the door to the building, this one's for your door, and that one's for the deadbolt. Room 508."

I nodded, appreciative of the information. It suddenly occurred to me that I might not ever be returning to my old apartment, to the site of my embrace. "Hey," I asked, "is someone going to get my stuff, or should I go and pick it up later?"

Without turning, he answered. "Your old life is gone. You died. This is your new life. Your stuff is probably already destroyed. Don't bother hanging onto the dregs of mortality. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other customers to see to."

I stepped out of the car, and the cab drove off into the night. I stood there for a moment, dealing with the revelation that all I had ever owned, all I had ever known, everything I'd worked those long tedious hours for, was gone. Erased, as though it never existed. The cabbie's words turned over in my mind. _You died._ Realizing that I was standing out like a sore thumb, standing there with a baseball bat in my hand, I walked into the nearby alley. It was poorly lit, and there was a bum sleeping behind the nearby dumpster. _Classy place. Of course, I wasn't exactly living in luxury before, but…_

I opened the door. There was a set of stairs leading up, with mold on the walls. About 4 stories up, I opened the door to my loor. I saw signs of life here, comforting pieces of a place you could call home. A newspaper in front of a door. A set of mailboxes to my left. I checked 508, to find that several names had been crossed out and erased. _Is this a temporary spot? Am I ever going to have a place to lay my head down and call my own? A little patch of earth to bury my bone?_ Shaking these melancholy thoughts from my head, I headed up the stairs.

I approached 508 on my right. I hesitated outside, unsure of what kind of place I'd find inside. _Will it be dark? Will I have a coffin to sleep in?_ Smiling to myself at the absurdity of that image, I unlocked the door. What I encountered was not nearly as bizarre as I expected. Disgusting, ugly, but given the location, not out of the ordinary.

I stood, taking this new home of mine in. The place was a wreck, covered in trash. In front of me was a room about twenty feet across, with TV on the far wall sitting between two windows that looked out onto the street. To my left was a dirty, unmade bed covered with dark yellow stains.. _Do I need to sleep during the day?_ There was a source of clutter nearby: a bunch of plywood boards with a hammer and nails. Looking up at a nearby window that had been boarded over, however, their purpose became clear. _Run, rabbit run. Dig that hole, against the sun._ Smiling to myself, I began to realize how many little things I still had to get used to in this new life.

Putting aside these troubling thoughts, I decided to keep focusing on my surroundings, to avoid contemplation a bit longer. Tossing the baseball bat under the bed (_home defense_, I thought to myself sarcastically), I strode forward and closed the door. I had heard talking when I opened the door, and noticed the source: a radio to my right, tuned to some late night talk show. Some pervert was calling in and harassing the hostess. Past the radio was the kitchen. I noticed a pile of pizza boxes in the back corner, full of uneaten pizzas. Wandering over, I picked up a piece, contemplating eating it.

The thought filled me with disgust. The idea of eating, of taking some ground up seeds, covered in rotted milk and bits of ground up animal flesh, and putting it in my mouth, made me want to puke. Just the thought of the grinding of the teeth, the smacking of the lips, the saliva, turning an already disgusting thing into an even more disgusting mush, and then SWALLOWING it, shoving it down my throat with my tongue and putting it in my stomach, made me light headed. I threw the slice of pizza back onto the box. I was trying to reconcile this new attitude with the way I'd felt about food 6 hours ago. _It can't be that gross, can it? I guess eating is kind of is disgusting, when you examine it from a detached perspective. We just overlook it in our lives because we have to, because we have an overriding desire to eat. I used to think drinking blood was gross and weird, and now I can't think of anything I'd rather do. I guess it comes down to perspective._

Leaving that corner alone, I turned to look at the fridge. _If we can't eat, what's the point?_ Curious, I opened it, and my curiosity was rewarded. Three plastic medical packs of blood sat in the vegetable crisper. Seeing them, I found myself licking my lips. I was still a little hungry. Taking one out, I looked it over, trying to decide what to do. With a shrug, I sank my fangs into it, draining the blood. It was different from live feeding. There were no memories, just a vague sense of life. It was quite unsatisfying, and felt… _like a tv dinner: processed, cold._ And that cold… I shuddered. Still, it had sated my thirst. Looking at the other two packs, I decided to leave them for later and closed the fridge. Looking around, I realized I had no trashcan. Shrugging, I tossed the empty bloodpack onto the pile of pizza boxes.

Wandering out of the kitchen, I noticed a patch of cleanliness in the back left corner: a neat desk, with a laptop and several notes on it. It was almost as thought my eyes were intended to be drawn there. I put off reading the notes. _It's probably just whatever job LaCroix wants me to do. I need a break_.I turned on the TV and sat down. _Even Kindred need to rot their brains once in awhile._ There isn't much good on at 4 am. Late night news. Lame talk shows. Televangelists. Infomercials. Bored, I got up and wandered into the bathroom to my right. I was struck by how especially disgusting it was. I wondered if it had ever been cleaned. The shower glass was so covered in soap scum it was now barely transparent. Spots of mold grew on the toilet seat, and the sink was streaked with something yellow. A cockroach scurried into a hole when I flicked on the light. There were no cleaning supplies to be found. It then occurred to me that I hadn't used the bathroom in awhile. _Do I even have to anymore?_ In answer to my question, I realized I had to pee. Shrugging, I got down to business, only to see a stream of pure black liquid come out of me. _Holy shit. Is that normal? How would I know? Is there such a thing as a vampire doctor? Since we can't get sick, I guess not. Makes sense, I guess, given our diet._

Finishing up, I went over to the sink and washed my hands. _Is this even necessary? I can't get sick. I suppose that's why the disgusting state of this place doesn't really bother me. This is all so weird… Do I have to use the bathroom for anything else? I guess not. No food, no shit. Wow. Kindred are so… clean compared to humans. Just one more thing that sets us above them._

I turned that last thought over in my head as I wandered out, realizing that I was already comfortable thinking of myself as both different from and superior to humans. On TV, a news anchor was talking about some serial killer. I switched it off, uninterested in human stories about human problems. I sat down again. I needed to think for a bit.

There was a lot to take in. Serious identity issues that I had to make sense of before I could proceed with my life… or existence, or whatever. _Am I alive? If not, then what am I? Do I have a pulse? No. Do I need to breathe? I've been breathing so far._ I held my breath to see. After awhile holding in one breath became a little uncomfortable, so I let it out, but I felt no particular need to breathe. 10 minutes passed. 15 minutes. In the end I took in a breath only because it just felt so _weird_ to not breathe. _Okay, okay, calm down. There has to be some explanation. And yet… life can't exist without respiration. It can't exist without generating heat. It's physically impossible. But… I'm thinking. I can move. So… what should I make of this? _

…

Serena's lessons to me came winding back through my memory. I remembered asking her similar questions, about how the things she was showing me could be true, how they could be compatible with the common understanding of the world. She just smiled and said, "There are forces in this universe that are as powerful as gravity or electromagnetism, and yet most people have no idea they exist. They can't be measured directly, you can only figure out how they work by observing their indirect effects."

I had thought about this for a little. "You mean like entropy?"

"Entropy?"

"Yeah. It's the measurement of chaos, or more exactly, the degree of freedom of a system. You can't directly measure it, but the second law of thermodynamics states that for any process, the net entropy of the universe must increase. It has to be taken into account whether you're designing a steam engine or a chemical reactor."

Serena had seemed intrigued by this. "You mean to tell me that it is accepted scientific theory that the universe tends towards chaos? Fascinating. Yes, that's an excellent example of what I'm talking about. Same thing with life. There's an energy there, produced in especial abundance in humans, based around the total complexity and freedom of their existence. The blood is a conduit for this energy, and through the blood this power can be tapped into directly."

…...

_Okay… so it should be theoretically possible for a being to exist without respiration or chemical energy by directly feeding off this life energy. Hell, more than theoretically possible. The fact I'm capable of thinking these thoughts is evidence enough of the validity of that theory._ Smiling, I couldn't help but be proud of myself. I knew Serena would have been. Whenever I asked her for an explanation of something, she would always present me with a few bare facts, and wait to see if I could figure out the truth on my own. She would always tell me that my understanding of these things would be better if I was made to work them out myself.

Serena… the weight of her death dragged me down. It occurred to me that I had been avoiding dealing with what had happened. _Why? Why did it have to happen? Why did she have to die? Just for siring me? No. No fucking way. Bullshit._

Choking back a cry of rage and loss, I buried my face in my hands. I couldn't handle the idea that she was just gone, that all the things she was going to show me, the lifetimes we were going to spend together, had vanished in an instant. It occurred to me then just how completely alone I was in this world. I could never again speak with anyone I'd known in my last life. Family, coworkers, the occultists… I'd cut ties with all of them for Serena, and now I had to keep my existence a secret. With her gone, I had no point of reference, no way to make this stuff make sense, no one to share these questions and fears with. Sure, Jack had helped me out, but I wasn't his concern. I wasn't his childe. He had his own shit to do. I was out here on my own, expected to work for an organization I didn't understand just to be allowed to live and have a home. I was expected to obey rules that had never been explained to me. I couldn't help but balk at how absurd this situation was. I had a weird feeling that it was abnormal, even in Kindred society. I didn't know where this belief came from, since I had no idea what normal even was in Kindred society, but I knew that I was being treated unfairly.

_What can I do about it? I'm dealing with something so much bigger than me, so completely over my head, I can't possibly hope to change the situation. I guess the best thing I can do is whatever they tell me to do, and try to figure out what the hell is going on so I can eventually worm my way out of their clutches._ Wanting to escape from the feeling of being helpless, trapped, and alone, I looked around to find something that would let me focus on something, anything else.

I looked at the desk, and saw a folded note with intricately printed letters. I pulled up the chair and decided to give it a look.

It gave me a riddle to occupy my mind. It was very carefully handwritten. The riddle read:

"At your convenience, please come and visit me in my home downtown. I leave you this to guide you.

Dark blood, our curse, a light this verse.

Such power I sense in one so young.

Come see me where burns the mystical sun.

M. Strauss, Tremere Regent"

To call the message unclear would have been quite the understatement. _Tremere… Serena mentioned that term. So did Jack. Something about clans? Still, the note indicates that someone is interested in me, enough to test me, to see if I can figure out this out. That's something, at least. I just wish I had a little basic info to go on from here._

Sighing, I put the note back down. This Strauss guy said to meet him downtown, and it was made pretty clear I had some work to do before I could leave Santa Monica, so there was no point in wondering about it now. I picked up a notepad next to the note, and finally got some clear, unclouded information.

"Hey. The password for your computer is 'sunrise.' Keep the cash in the drawer… it's yours. I dropped you an email with my address… come on over after you get settled.

-Mercurio"

Opening the drawer, I found a nice wad of twenties. I realized then that even my wallet had been taken from me, that I really had been thrown out like a baby into the woods. This cash made things a little easier, at least. _Still, what do I do without my ID? I mean, how do I get booze? Guess I can't drink it, anyway. I'm really living off the grid, the way I used to fantasize about. And yet, I'm still working for the man._ I was going to have to quickly adjust to not only my new existence, but also to new life circumstances. It seemed this laptop was going to be my window into my responsibilities. _Time to start it up, see what's expected of me._

Starting up the laptop, I found that it was a stripped down piece of shit. It only allowed access to my email and let my type word documents. I'd heard of cheap things like this, for people in third world countries. I couldn't help but rankle at the insult. _So I'm not even worth a decent computer. Or is the Prince afraid I'm going to run off with it?_. Ugh. _No point in getting pissed off. It is what it is. Like Serena used to say: accept the situation you're in, and figure out a way to improve it within the confines of the circumstances._

Booting up the email (only one preset address available), I found 3 emails worth reading in my inbox, after filtering out the obligatory spam. The act of cleaning out all the penis enlargement offers was a strangely comforting ritual among all this dislocation. One of the emails was from someone named Lacroix, one from Mercurio, and one from someone simply titled "a friend". Deciding to get down to business, I opened Mercurio's first. Nothing particularly interesting, just his address and apartment number, and him telling me to come down tonight. But the others were more interesting.

The one from Lacroix was formal and informative.

"Dear Fledgling,

I believe I was not given the opportunity to formally introduce myself. I am Sebastian LaCroix, official Prince of the Camarilla domain of Los Angeles. I have been informed that Jack was able to educate you in on the basics of the Masquerade. The Masquerade the most important thing on this earth to our kind, and the foundation of Camarilla society. We must never allow knowledge of our kind to spread among the populace. Our kind's survival depends upon it. Once, our herd nearly wiped our kind out, in the Middle Ages,led by religious fanaticism. Since that time, we have lived in secrecy. If the mass of humanity nearly destroyed our kind armed only with swords and torches and faith, I imagine they would be far more successful now that they have infrared goggles and flamethrowers and nuclear weapons. Thus, it should be obvious that our survival depends upon upholding the Masquerade. Failure to do so will be punished severely. Remember this always, and remember the events of this night if you need to be reminded of the price of failing to hold up the Masquerade.

There is a tradition among the Kindred, which states that upon embrace, the Sire may choose to have their childe retain their mortal name, or may choose a new name for them. Because of your sire's unfortunate disregard for our traditions, they were executed before they had the opportunity to make this decision. Therefore, according to tradition, the matter falls to you. You may choose to retain your previous name, or you may choose another for yourself. While you do have the freedom to choose any name you desire, I would recommend avoiding anything especially outlandish, as it would reflect badly on you. I expect a response to this email tonight, along with an update on your progress on the task assigned to you.

Mercurio will be waiting for you. Remember, do not return to downtown LA until you have dealt with matters here.

Sincerely,

Sabastian LaCroix, Camarilla Prince of the Domain of Los Angeles"

_That slimy asshole, using my Sire's execution to intimidate me, as though I couldn't see the logic of the Masquerade. It's self-apparent. Still... A new name. _ _Anything I want. Too much to decide now. Keep checking the email. Still, good to know the name of that pompous prince. LaCroix… of the LaCroix foundation? Holy shit! The chemical supply company I worked for was a subsidiary for that thing! _I couldn't help but laugh. My fat, middle aged boss, riding our ass about sales figures, nothing but a tool for some vampires. Just when I thought my world couldn't get turned any further upside down… _Is there anything in this world Kindred don't have their hands in? I mean, do they pick the president? Do they control the whole world?_ I thought back to all the conspiracy theories I had ever looked over or briefly believed in, from alien abductions to 9/11 truthers. It all paled in comparison to this, and yet… it made perfect sense. _After all, we're a race of superhumans that work to keep our existence secret from the masses… of course most people wouldn't understand what's going on._

Almost in answer to my thoughts, I heard a voice from the radio going on and on about the US government working with aliens to subvert the Chinese or something. Chuckling, I got up and switched off the radio. _Poor human, just trying to make sense of a world where you don't get to see what's going on behind the curtains. You know it doesn't make sense from where you're sitting, but you're way off the mark in your explanation, man._ It occurred to me, though, that I really didn't know what was going on either. I'd learned about one major secret, but who knew what was really going on? _I'll find out. Slowly but surely, little by little, I'll figure out this world. My whole life, I knew that all the explanations I'd been given, physical, historical, political, were bullshit, a thin veneer designed to satisfy to uncurious and the ignorant. I've only just pushed back the curtain, but I have to know. After all I've gone through, I just have to._

"_That's my Luke. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me._" The sound of Serena's voice forced me to sit down again. _How is this happening? Am I imagining this, or is this her… ghost? Spirit? Serena?_ "Serena?" But there was no answer,. Frustrated at my ignorance, I slammed my fist onto the desk. I shook my head and went back to checking my email, burying myself in the familiar, only to be filled yet again by doubt and confusion.

"Subject: The game opens.

A pawn is moved, the game begins.

Sincerely, a friend."

_Great. And someone else has decided to take an interest in me, play with me, and only speak to me in riddles. Thank goodness Serena got me used to constant inquiry and testing, otherwise I'd be worn out and ready to give up by now. Am I the pawn? So what am I supposed to take away from this? Fuck it, there's nothing to solve here._

Closing the laptop, I sat back, trying to think. Looking over at the notepad, I ripped off the note from Mercurio and set it aside on the desk. I picked up a pen and decided to start writing. Put down what I knew so far on paper. _Where do I start? Where does all thought begin? With the self._ With a smile, I began to write.

"My name was Luke."

I recounted my time with Serena briefly, trying to capture our time together and failing miserably. When I finished the synopsis, ending with my embrace, I turned the page. I realized it was time to find a new name for myself. I could stay as Luke, but it just seemed… wrong. My whole life was completely gone. I should have a new name to reflect this, but at the same time letting go of a name is very hard. I thought of the origin of the name. _Luke, one of the twelve disciples. Changed his name to indicate his salvation._ I smiled, as an idea began to form. Serena would have appreciated it, would have liked the… _what would she have called it?_ The historical irony of the joke contained within the meaning of the word. _Yeah, why not? My new existence is an absurd joke wrapped in a complex riddle. My name may as well be, too._

"I am now Lucius..." I wrote, "...and those who believe in such nonsense would consider me one of the damned and the fallen."

I smiled at that, remembering Jack's words. I didn't know if he believed such things, but I knew I didn't. Obviously there were things which had been hidden from me, a spiritual side to life, but that didn't mean I believed in the religious dogma my parents had tried to instill in me. _Religious fools, even named me after one of the gospels. Look how that turned out._ I smiled to myself, halfway hoping I had really damned myself to spite them. I looked down at the single sentence on the page. I decided to plan for my future. _What am I going to do with myself? Serve LaCroix? If not, what happens? Where do I live? Where do I go? I need to get my bearings before just going off into the blue._ Looking down at the notepad, I decided to put my decision in writing.

"I hate LaCroix, the Prince of LA. I want to kill him. But he's strong, and I'm weak. I will be polite to him, and follow all orders until I have a better understanding of the situation."

It occurred to me that these words were treason, that I could probably be beheaded for them. _Fuck it. If I'm being monitored that closely I'm as good as dead anyway. I just have to hope that I'm unimportant enough that nobody would bother going through my stuff. God, this shit is making me paranoid._

I decided to compose a response email to LaCroix. _I'll be proper and stuck up, since he seems to like that. I hate the fucker, but being openly hostile can't possibly help me. I just have to accept that I'm working for him, bury my hate inside and hope it gets the opportunity to come out. _I opened the laptop again.

"Dear Prince LaCroix,

I thank you for the opportunity you have given me to prove myself worthy of your mercy. I promise to uphold the Masquerade at all times, as is rational and necessary. I would like to rename myself for this new existence I have been reborn into. I have chosen to adopt the name of Lucius for myself. I have only just settled into my new haven, and I thank both you and the Camarilla for providing me with it. I intend to meet Mercurio in person to discuss my assignment the moment this email is sent.

Sincerely,

Lucius, Childe of Serena"

Looking over the email, I decided it was good enough. It was dripping with sycophantic brown nosing, a skill I'd learned through a decade of sucking up to management. It adopted an extremely formal tone, almost to the point of parody. In fact, I liked to think I was very subtly making fun of LaCroix's pompous mannerisms. And at the end… _Childe of Serena. I hope that's right. It feels right. It reminds him I haven't forgotten about her. Should I take it out? No, fuck it. He can make me bow and scrape, but I won't be afraid to mention her because of him._ I hit send and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

I closed the laptop and sat back in my chair. I wasn't ready to head out yet, even though the night was late. Switching on the news again, I checked the weather scroll at the bottom. "Sunrise: 5:54 am. Current time: 4:20 am." _Just 15 more minutes, then I'll head out._

I turned back to my notepad. I still needed to put some information down on paper, but what? Suddenly, it hit me, and I didn't understand how I'd forgotten it. _Spells. The things that brought Serena and I together. The things that we constantly studied. The things that saved my life tonight._

I started with Auspex, going over the symbols. Curious, I decided to pour out my blood in the shape, mutter the words, the same way I used to do with her. To my surprise, the blood on the table vaporized when I finished, and once again I could see beyond the veil. _So the drawn symbol is one way to cast the spell… but Kindred don't have to do that. Just visualize and it's active, but you lose blood either way._

Moving on, I got into the Domination discipline. Serena had been disdainful of it. She claimed it could be useful sometimes, but that ultimately if one tried to control the minds of others too much one would grow contemptuous of all, leading to arrogance and weakness. The power would become a crutch and a hindrance in the end, and if you used it on someone powerful enough to be aware of what you were doing, you just made yourself a permanent enemy. Still, useful if used sparingly.

Then there was the blood magic. Thaumaturgy, she had called it. Her words came back to me. "The purest of all magical disciplines, for they all originate with blood. If you want to understand this force, this essence I speak of, then study of this discipline is the best way to achieve that understanding. I warn you, however, to expect things to be far more complex than you could imagine." I had poured myself into this field. Dissecting her manuals on the theory behind it, taking copious notes that were all now lost. I listed the basics here.

"Through the use of blood, one may gain access to powerful and subtle energies that can be turned to almost any purpose. With Thaumaturgy, the manipulation of essence, down to the very properties of matter, is entirely within one's grasp. One can bind individual wills with bonds of blood. One can turn flesh to stone that moves. One can rip even the fiercest foe apart from within."

I wrote down the practical skills I had gained. The Blood Strike was the only one I had really memorized properly, or so Serena had told me. I couldn't do any of the blood magic spells until tonight, but she had just told me that I had got it perfectly. She somehow knew when I was visualizing symbols in my mind improperly. I had managed to pull off Purge for the first time tonight. It had happened out of desperation, or maybe just because I was Kindred now, but I still couldn't help but feel that Serena would have been proud. I realized then how central my desire to please her, to seek her approval had been to my sense of self worth. Now that she was gone, I was still working to that end. _Well, why not? She genuinely wanted to see me succeed, to enlighten me, to make me into… into a good Kindred._ It really hit me then, the way all our training had been preparation for my Embrace.

_Oh, Serena. Why didn't you ask permission? Why didn't you play it by the book? I would have waited. I would have waited years, decades for you. Were you lonely? You said I was the first person you'd ever met that fascinated you this way. Was I your first Embrace? God, I'm so lonely._

With that, I dropped the pen, deciding I'd written enough. I needed to go out, talk to someone, anyone. I was ready to meet this Mercurio guy. No doubt he'd be a tool, just like Lacroix, but right now even Lacroix would be better than this emptiness.

Walking out the door, locking the deadbolt, heading outside, I came to a realization. I decided that being a Kindred, I could handle. Being off the grid, I could handle. Being a blood-drinking monster, I could definitely handle. Working for an asshole like Lacroix, I could handle. Even this confusion, this being in the dark, I could handle, provided I felt that I could eventually work out the answers. What I couldn't handle was this loneliness, this emptiness inside me that had been there my whole life. I realized that it had never bothered me before. But for a few blissful months, Serena had filled that void for the first time in my life. _Now I can't stand to feel this emptiness where she once was._


	6. Chapter 5: Divergent Paths Intersecting

**Thank you Rednightmare and Flying Frog for your reviews. They're what encourage me to keep writing. Hope I continue to interest and entertain you!**

**As for the thin blood thing: I'm aware of the generational thing, where the antediluvians are gods and each generation is automatically weaker than the last, and the thin bloods are just too far removed from Caine. The thing is… I never really liked it. I know it's cannon, but White Wolf ended VTM, so at this point we fans kind of have free license to play around. I prefer to think the elders are strong just because of natural selection: only the strongest and the smartest manage to stay alive for hundreds of years. The whole thing about successive generations being weaker sounds like elder propaganda to me… **

**I like Flying Frog's explanation for thin bloods. At this point, I really don't know where I'm going to go with that, but I'll definitely keep your idea in mind. Glad to see there's so much interest in this awesome game and world! VTM may be officially dead, but true to its nature it refuses to stay down.**

.

.

.

.

I stepped out into the street, into the light of the streetlamps that made the night seem less hostile. I took a moment to take in my new hometown. I noticed the hospital across the street from me, big red cross bathing the nearby sidewalk in a color that made me think of blood. _Of course, everything makes me think of blood._ Turning to my right, I spotted a man leaking the precious substance.

I was startled by the amount of blood he seemed to be losing, but even more startled that he didn't seem at all interested in heading to the hospital across the street. He was dragging himself up into a very classy looking apartment building. I watched him vanish inside, fascinated. _I'd be amazed if he made it through the night._ I decided to investigate. Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up at the numbers over the door the man had dragged himself into. _24… tell me this isn't where I'm supposed to meet Mercurio. Tell me that wasn't him. He's gonna totally be dead when I talk to him. And I bet Lacroix is going to blame me, too. Shit._

I quickly opened the door, only to be greeted by the sight of a trail of blood leading to the back of the hallway over an ornate rug, now ruined. I started to walk forward, when a voice called out.

"Excuse me sir, is one of the residents expecting you?"

I looked up at a wizened old man to my left, sitting at a reception desk. I gave him an incredulous look, looked down at the trail of blood, then asked him, "This doesn't worry you? That a guy just dragged himself down the hall while bleeding?"

He adopted a severe look. "The business of the residents is no concern of mine. The security of this building is. I suggest you cease this line of inquiry and leave quickly and quietly."

I couldn't help but sigh. This was probably the right building, then. "I'm here to see Mercurio. Lacroix sent me. Let me guess: Mercurio's the guy who decided to repaint this hall red?"

Relaxing, falling into familiar routine, the man ignored my joke and simply said, "Last door on the right."

Nodding, I walked down the hallway. _Of course I have to go the room with the trail of blood. Haven't you learned anything from tonight, Luke? Oh, wait, I'm Lucius now. Too much shit to deal with in one night._

Opening the door, I was greeted by a gruesome sight. The individual in front of me was messed up BAD. He normally would have looked good, dressed in and expensive suit and nice purple shirt, but the blood all over everything kind of ruined the look. There were big red stains on his chest and shoulder, and a big reddish yellowish stain on his abdomen. His clothes were ripped to shit, and his face… swollen more than any face should be, discolored blue, black and yellow, with red stains splotched throughout. The guy looked like a poor caricature of a real human. I noticed, with increasing dismay, the large amount of blood leading from the front door, across a very expensive carpet, up to the couch where the guy, who I assumed was Mercurio, was laying.

As I walked over to him, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. _As bad a night as I've had, at least I could heal my injuries. This guy is facing down oblivion, most likely._ _Don't empathize too much, Lucius. He's probably going to be dead within the hour._

Once I was close, I could hear him muttering to himself. "Those mother- AH! Shit! Ripped me off… messed me up… Aw, shit, I'm dyin' here!"

"You Mercurio?"

"Uhh…" He looked up, bleary-eyed, noticing me for the first time. "Yeah. You here for the Astrolite?" _Uh, yeah, sure, I guess. The fuck is Astrolite?_ "Shit, I got a draft on my insides! They shanked me, the bastards! The blood ain't workin' no more, I think my head's cracked, and my eye, I can't see out my eye!" I couldn't even see the eye in question, as it was swollen shut. Still, I had to agree. He was fucked up, and it was unreasonable of me to expect anyone in that situation to be able to help me or answer questions.

"You want me to get you to the hospital? Call an ambulance?"

"What? No!" _Not the answer I was expecting._ "I got a record back east. I'm heat bait. No goddamn fuzz!"

Sighing, I pondered my options. I needed to know what it was I was expected to do. "If that's what you want, man. So what's this Astrolite? What am I supposed to be doing here? What the hell happened?"

"I got…" he seemed to be having trouble concentrating. He looked down at himself, while putting a hand to his side. "What is this lump? Is that my rib? Is my rib poking through my side? Shit kid, you gotta look for me, I can't do it."

Suppressing a sigh and a shudder, putting aside my frustration and trepidation, I pulled back the shirt. _Yep, that's a rib. Just sticking out the side of his chest. Leaking blood and… oh yeah, I think that's a punctured lung behind the rib. Wow, this guy is fucked. Still, why bother telling him? He's not gonna call 911, and it'll only agitate him more._ Trying to plaster a smile on my face, I told him, "It's alright man. It's just broken. So what happened?"

My report calmed him down a bit. "Goddamn chemist! Cant' trust any dealers in LA! I verified him, organization seemed reliable. Guy mixes up speed, coke, uppers. His crew sells it. Occasionally does explosives. I set up a drop." _Explosives? Shit, and here I thought this was a drug deal gone bad, didn't have anything to do with my job._ "I show up at his house with the money, right? Four of these guys come out of nowhere, junkie pricks, beat me with bats! And then, when I wouldn't go down, they shoot me a few times for good measure! I'm damn lucky they missed my heart, only got my shoulder. And my lung. And my guts. Heh." That sarcastic chuckle made him wince. I could relate, though, being forced to find an upside in a shitty situation. Still… _He should be in shock right now._ "Those cocksuckers. I decide to play dead, and they leave me for a stiff. I had to crawl to my car, crawl my ass up here – the vamp blood's the only goddamn thing holding me together."

I perked up at that. _I knew this guy was more together than he should be. I figured it was drugs, that he just didn't feel how fucked he was. But vampire blood… _"Vamp blood? You mean vampire blood? What does that do for you?"

"Right, I forget, you're straight off the bus." I smiled, knowing exactly how true that was. "Once a month I get fed vampire blood. Heals me faster, makes me stronger and tougher than a normal person. I don't age. You wouldn't know it by lookin' at me, but I'm almost sixty."

That blew my mind. He looked to be about thirty, though it was hard to tell with all the swelling. _This guy has probably seen some crazy shit._ "Shit man, that's… wow. So… you think you'll be OK? I'm not going to lie, I pretty much figured you were going to die tonight when I saw you."

Mercurio smiled a little, looking weary. "Yeah, I guess I would be if I didn't have that stuff in me. It's not working much any more, though. Guess I lost it all in the street, eh?" He chuckled painfully, and I joined him in laughing. My sense of humor was becoming darker by the minute. "Still, shit, they got the money, the astrolite…"

I sighed. _Guess this means I have to deal with this shit, huh? Well, I can't do any worse than you did, buddy. Plus, I got a bit more vampire blood in me than you do. _"Well, look, I don't have a clue what's going on. If Lacroix told you I'm supposed to pick up this astrolite stuff, then I guess that's what I have to do. So I'm assuming that my next destination is wherever you just came from. Where can I find them?"

"Those small-time sons of bitches live in a dump by the beach. Four or five of 'em. The chemist in charge of the little crew is Dennis. The prick got my money, too!"

I couldn't help but be fascinated by this chemist guy. I wanted to know how exactly he ended up in charge of a gang, making bombs and drugs. Did he go to college like me, studying redox reactions, looking up enthalpies of formation? Where exactly did our paths diverge? _Task at hand, Luke. Lucius. Whatever._ "Okay, so where's this place on the beach from here?"

Mercurio sighed. "Layin' in a pool of my own blood, and you want friggin' directions, great." He told me how to get to the beach from where I was. "You gotta... you gotta get it back from them. Maybe reason with them, maybe reason with em' usin' a gun… I wanna kill 'em. Just… do whatever you people do. I blew it, I know."

_Poor guy. He's probably going to catch some real shit for this._ "Don't worry man, I'll take care of this. I've already been shot and hit with a baseball bat tonight, so I should be able to handle these guys."

That seemed to reassure him. I turned to walk out the door, when he called out to me. "Hey! Uh…" He seemed hesitant. "One more thing. About the deal that went bad. You tell anyone about this, and I'm dead." There was a desperation in his eyes that I could completely relate to. "I'm beggin' you. Please, don't be no fink. I got a way of getting people what they need. You keep quiet, I can help you out."

_Interesting… a chance to gain a friend. I like this guy. And besides, why would I go and be a brown-nosing piece of shit to Lacroix?_ I gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, I don't know what a "fink" is, but I'll keep my mouth shut. What Lacroix doesn't know can't piss him off, can it?

Letting out a sigh, I could see relief wash over Mercurio's warped face. "Thanks kid. I owe you." With that, he closed his one good eye and settled down into the couch. _One hell of a friend you got there, Lucius. Still, better than nothing._ With that, I walked out.

Ambling down the street in the direction of the parking garage, I tried once again to collect my thoughts. I wondered if this was all my life was going to be now, just endless violence and crises without a break. _Well, you wanted excitement in your life. You wanted to escape from the mundane. Here you are, be careful what you wish for._ _But… this isn't what I wanted._ _I wanted to understand the world, to study it with someone I loved and… ah, who am I kidding, Maybe that's what I wanted to a certain extent, but I was trying to escape. I just wish that there was a little more… balance. A little more quiet, a little more fun, and a little less violence._

As I wandered into the parking garage that led to the beach, I noticed a cop chatting up a skimpily dressed girl on a street corner. He seemed to be trying to intimidate her. She looked worried, then relieved at something he said. She followed him into a dark alley. _Santa Monica… shady ass shithole. Drug dealers who sell bombs on the side, cops getting free head from hookers in back alleys… and that's just what humans are up to. Who knows what plots Kindred are hatching? Well, I know what one Kindred is doing tonight, and it probably is going to involve murder._ The casual way I accepted the fact I was going to kill people was a little disconcerting, but certainly not shocking. _I'll make an effort to reason with them._

I approached the entrance to the beach, only to be stopped by a gate. I heard two cops talking behind it, about a horrible murder that they'd just seen, talking about how mangled the body had been. I saw a tunnel that headed down to the ocean and followed it, worrying to myself. _I know what could have caused the kind of carnage they described. The last thing I need is to deal with another hostile Kindred. Humans shouldn't be a problem, but if I see a Kindred coming for my blood, I'm running. Fuck that. I've come too close to death too many times tonight._

I came to the end of the tunnel, only to see a woman… _no, a Kindred woman, but different somehow…_ standing at the end. She started running towards me, and I tensed up, expecting that my dire prediction had come true. Funny, that I should be thinking of dire predictions when I met Rosa.

"There. Through that chainlink gate and up those stairs," she announced as she pointed up at a nearby cliff.

"What?" My fear melted, leaving a half-formed confusion as residue.

"The men you are looking for. That is where they are." I looked up, and sure enough there was a lone house on the cliff.

"But, how did you-"

"Never mind." She cut me off. "You wouldn't understand." And just like that, she wandered off.

_Wow. Just when I think I've experienced the weirdest shit, just when I seem to have a handle on things, I'm reminded yet again that the world is an insane place. I can't deal with this right now. I'm just gonna focus on the task at hand. That's always the easiest way to avoid the mental headaches. Task at hand, Lucius._

Still, I couldn't help but be interested in the group of Kindred huddled around a fire on the beach, staring out into the ocean. Except for that one girl, who was just looking at me intently. I uncomfortably walked past them, opened the gate, and headed up the fire escape-like stairs that climbed the cliff.

At the top was an old, run-down house with a beat up VW van parked outside a picket fence that had seen better days. In front of the only opening in the fence was a shirtless guy with crossed arms and a scowl who clearly spent an obsessive amount of time at the gym. Since I'd committed to trying to play nice, I walked up to the guy and greeted him.

I put on a casual smile, trying to act like I belonged there. "Hey man. I'm here to see Dennis."

He eyed me suspiciously, but I could immediately tell that he was either stupid or on something, probably both. "Oh yeah? He expecting you? Cause if he isn't you're gonna just have to talk to me. And I like talking with my fists." His attempt at intimidation would have made me laugh out loud, but again, I wanted to avoid violence.

_**Weakling. You could rip him in half and massacre these kine. Drain them and throw them away. They aren't innocent. Why do you hesitate? You'll always be crawling around at the bottom if you can't learn to use your strength.**_

The words of the beast seemed pretty reasonable. _All the more reason not to trust them. I'll do it his way if the nice way fails._ "Oh, yeah, he's totally expecting me man. We set up this meeting days ago. Are you sure he didn't mention something to you?" I figured I'd play on his fucked up memory, make him doubt himself.

"Uh, well, I don't think so… I should go and ask, maybe…"

"Suit yourself man. Although, aren't you supposed to stay here? Guard this spot? I mean, if you want to waste his time and mine, be my guest. From what I hear, though, Dennis isn't someone you want to piss off. And if he doesn't see me tonight, he'll be real pissed."

I could see the wheels slowly turning. "Okay, you can go in. And if you really want to make my night, go ahead and start some shit in there, cause I would love it." He stepped aside, letting me in.

I just smiled and walked in. _You better pray that I don't have to start some shit. Because I have a nasty, insane Beast inside me that scares even me, and if I listened to him your head would be detached from your body right now._

Opening the door, I saw a thug in a hoodie, vegging out on the couch, watching TV. When I came in he jumped up, pulling handgun out of his lap and pointing it shakily at me. "Whoa man, calm down." I held up my hands, showing I wasn't a threat. "Dennis is expecting me." He nodded slowly, then sat back down to watch TV – but kept his eyes on me. I passed two more guys in the kitchen, playing cards but suddenly uninterested in the game, despite the sizeable pile of white powder on the table in front of them, presumably being bet on the game.

Going past the kitchen and down a hall, I finally came upon the leader of the group, the enigmatic Dennis, chemist turned gang leader. I couldn't help but be intrigued. Dressed to the nines with a pressed white suit and pink dress shirt, the guy exuded confidence. His black face was pulled into a sneer that made me think I was barely worth his notice. His black hair was shaped into a perfectly spherical afro. After I'd looked him over, what caught my eye were the Bunsen burners and test tubes in the back, the various equipment whose functions I was trying to figure out. My curiosity was interrupted by Dennis.

"Who the hell are you? You know what, forget it. Before we do business, before anything changes hands, I want you to hear this. If you try to cross me, I will fuck you. If you tell the cops about me, I will find you, then fuck you. If you are a cop, I will fuck you and your whole family, including that squirrel in your yard. Now that we know the terms, what can I do to make you walk out of here feeling like you just flew first class with a cheerleader in your lap?"

I smiled at him. _Straight to business. I like that._ I decided to play it cool, try and interest him before jumping to the bombs. I looked over at the setup he had. "Very nice operation you got here. What is that, a two stage filtration and adsorption setup?" He looked at me with a level of suspicion and hostility that would have been appropriate coming from a soldier staring at a man with an RPG. "Hey man, calm down. I majored in chemistry in college, that's all." Giving him a conspiratorial look, trying to make him feel like I was a peer, I told him, "I occasionally do my own stuff at home. No manufacturing, but I purify the watered-down shit I get sometimes. But I hear I don't have to worry about that with your product."

Relaxing, reassessing me, he nodded. "Okay. Yeah, that's the setup I got goin' on. And I assure you, I don't sell anything but the best stuff. It's been through at least three purification processes. 80% pure. Five step purification at 95% purity if you want to pay for the better shit."

_Okay, now ease into the astrolite._ "You know, I would love to sample the many delights you have available, but I'm afraid I'm here for business, not pleasure. I need to get some astrolite."

The suspicion immediately returned. "What a coincidence. You know you're the second person to ask for that tonight? Considering that's not a very popular item, I have to wonder why you thought I might have some?"

"Alright, truth time. I'm a business associate of Mercurio's." Dennis and the other thug in the room both pulled out their guns. I held up my hands again. "Now look, I'm just here to talk. Why don't we all calm down and try to act like civilized human beings here? My job is to walk out of here with the astrolite. I just need you to tell me how I can make that happen."

Barely holding back the hostility in his voice, exuding an excessive, violent confidence, he gave me an ultimatum. "How about this? How about you empty out your pockets, and I'll consider letting you go with only a minor beating? How's that for an offer?"

_**Insolent fool. Kill him. Kill them all. Drain their blood. Rip their flesh. You are Kindred, and you will NOT be spoken to like that by kine.**_

Trying one more time to keep this from devolving into violence, I told him, "Look man, you don't know who you're dealing with. You're pissing off some powerful people. You already got the money, so why don't you just stay true to your word, hand over the thing that's already been paid for, and I'll see to it my organization overlooks the beating you gave Mercurio."

"Beating? We killed that motherfucker."

"Well then I guess he's a zombie then, because I was just talking to him. How do you think I knew where to find you?"

"Shit, there's no fucking way… You know what? I don't give a shit. I'll deal with him later. Now," Dennis said as he put his gun right up to my head, "empty your pockets, and then be out of here by the time I count to 10, or you better hope you figure out a way to become one of the living dead real quick."

That last comment sent me over the edge. I just started laughing in his face. _That's the second time I've laughed at someone holding a gun at me. It's just so funny, knowing how shocked he's going to be._

I reached up and grabbed his wrist. He pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through my head. It hurt. A little. _I've already been shot plenty tonight. This is no big deal_. I just smiled at him, and with my left hand I smashed his elbow from the outside, forcing it to bend the wrong way.

_**Now, let's show them what you really are.**_

His scream echoed through the house. The thug began firing, to little effect other than my annoyance. Taking a deep breath, I decided this was a great opportunity to practice Purge. I held the symbols in my mind, muttered the phrases under my breath, and… nothing. _Shit._ Next thing I knew, two more thugs were in the room, one pouring bullets into me. The pain was now becoming serious, and the Beast began to growl. So did I, baring my fangs at my attackers, causing them to stop and stare in surprise.

Taking advantage of the momentary pause, I concentrated on Serena's lesson. "_Purge is the process of making the body reject its own blood,. Alter the essence of their life energy, make it turn upon itself. It's like an immune reaction, but stronger. It's rejecting the very essence of itself. You must summon from yourself a depth of self hate, of self denial that I think you are capable of producing from your life experience, Luke."_ Focusing upon this sensation, summoning up the despair and self-loathing that had filled me when I was staked with Serena, when I watched her die and could do nothing – all while holding the symbols and the incantations in my head, I suddenly felt a burning in my veins, and the next thing I knew everyone around me was huddled over.

I looked around, laughing with delight as vomit burst out of everyone's mouths at high speed. They all stopped to take shuddering breaths, then gagged and screamed in pain as the second wave hit them. Their vomit began to turn red, as more and bloody spewed out with each heave of their stomachs, until finally they were vomiting pure blood with bits of flesh floating in it. _The blood is ripping through the intestinal lining in an effort to escape the body._ _If anyone here survived, they'd have to be on an IV drip for weeks._ Pulling myself away from my academic fascination, I pulled my tire iron out of my waistband, even as I felt what I was calling the blood adrenaline rush into me, making me stronger, making me hungrier.

Turning to the newly entered thugs, I smashed the one over the head, knocking him to the ground. I felt that now familiar sense of invulnerability that had filled me after my first drink. Suddenly, this thing in front of me was _nothing_, just a blood bag that got too uppity and needed to be shown that it was a fucking ANT. I smashed his head open like a pumpkin. I felt supremely satisfied.

_**That's a good start, but those kine won't be puking forever.**_ Nodding, I picked up the corpse's gun and turned around. I'd never shot a gun before and couldn't aim this thing for shit, but I didn't need to. Pointing it at the thug who'd been here originally, I fired point blank, over and over again, watching with an entertained fascination as the body jerked and spasmed, then fell to the floor. I continued firing, still fascinated with the motions, until the clip was empty. Dropping the gun, I looked up at Dennis with a feral smile. _**Oh yes, that blood is going to be good, and this time you can drink every last drop, oh ye-**_ My thoughts were interrupted by a baseball bat to the back of the head. _My thoughts? That was the beast. Or was that me?_ Turning around, I snarled at the guy who delivered the blow. I lunged at him, catching him off guard. I put my teeth up to his throat, not to drink, but just to rip it open. He pushed me back, but not before I tore off a significant chunk of flesh. Putting his hand up to his neck, he dropped the bat, which I grabbed and used to knock out his knees. Once he was on the ground, I jammed the bat into his skull, spear-style, handle end down.

Turning around, I saw Dennis trying to climb out the window. With a laugh, I grabbed him by the leg and threw him across the room. Striding up to him as he tried to get up, I grabbed him by the collar and held him in the air.

"Shit, man! I'm sorry! What the fuck? I fucking shot you in the head, man! What the fuck?"

I suddenly felt cold, almost detached from everything that just happened. Smiling up at him, I said, "You know, I'm very interested in the course your life took. I could have ended up like you, and you like me. Where did our lives diverge? Ah, but I'll know soon enough. You probably have all kinds of fascinating things to show me. That's why your blood smells so good. You have more stuff in there, more freedom, more… entropy." Salivating in anticipation, I leaned in close, smelling his fear, smelling the sweet nectar of life flowing in his veins. My fangs extended instinctually. Dennis screamed, but only for a moment, before I felt that sweet feeling of skin parting for my fangs, of that first exquisite drop lifting me up, making me feel alive.

A rush of pleasure overwhelmed me as I gave in completely to the Beast, knowing that I could have him completely, not having to watch how much I drank. It was exquisite, pure satisfaction, mixed with a feeling of overwhelming chemical confidence. I knew at once that this was a mixture of cocaine and speed he'd been doing. I had never done anything in my life, but I knew because I extracted it from his mind. I knew because I experienced it vicariously, through his life. An entire lifetime of experiences opened up to me, changed me, enlightened me.

I saw the way he'd been raised by religious parents like mine. I saw the way he'd studied in school, but felt the same dissatisfaction with the answers he was fed. I saw the way that, like me, he kept studying, staying on the good path to make them happy. I saw him go to college, but his parents died in a robbery his freshman year, instead of at the end of college like mine did. I saw his descent into drugs and alcohol. I saw the way he managed to pull off a balance, gravitating towards uppers so he could still keep up his grades. The way he started making them, selling them to classmates, at first just for tests, then for recreation. I saw the way he started reaching out, filling that loneliness that had filled both our lives, suddenly becoming popular, suddenly able to get any girl he wanted, suddenly flying high on chemical confidence and popularity and easy money. I saw the way he swore he'd go clean after graduation, how it was only a college thing. I saw the way he ended up stuck in a shit job like me, but refused to take it. First he sold speed on the side, slowly stealing equipment from work, then quitting and pulling together this gang, this house, this operation, riding high on a world of success and power.

I felt a strange jealousy, that he should be allowed such heights of pleasure while I had been made to slog through a life of disappointment and grueling work. And yet… _I get to experience it all, as though it was my own life. And I have something he threw away: discipline. Still… amazing the way lives can diverge. How the slightest changes in circumstance can alter trajectory so extensively, the way his life just spiraled out of control. Yet… it was my quiet desperation, my bitter hulking loneliness, my inability to sate my curiosity with drugs and women and power, that led to the more fucked up path. After all, I'm hunched over this guy right now, draining his blood._

And suddenly, all coherent thought became impossible. A rush of experiences, so many drugs, so many women, so many business deals and acts of violence and highs and lows and withdrawals blasted through me, all at the same moment that ecstasy coursed through every vein in my body, lit up every dead nerve, blasted my existence into the stratosphere. As the final drops of blood entered me, I felt like my consciousness had expanded. Like I now had two whole lifetimes of memories inside me. I felt like I was so much more than a mere mortal that it defied explanation.

And then it was all cut off, and I was sucking nothing from the dry artery of a corpse.

I let go of what was Dennis, and he fell to the floor like a rag doll. Staring down at the hunk of flesh that had contained the life I had just experienced, I knew then and there I would never be the same. I would always be tempted to drain people dry, even without the beast goading me on. I no longer held all his memories and experiences in my mind as I had while draining him, and in fact they were already beginning to fade, but the simple act of experiencing them so completely would leave me a different person. I was grateful that the life I experienced was so similar to mine, since it gave me an opportunity to process what I'd been through.

It then occurred to me that I was lucky, to have my first real intense experience with the Beast be so… sublime. Contained within the experience of giving into the beast was a set of memories that represented a cautionary tale, about the way giving into raw pleasure and losing self control could lead to a loss of judgment. _Not to mention the end of one's life._ Yet again I strengthened my resolve to remain in control, to keep the Beast on my leash, and to have a sense of morals and practical necessity dictate my actions.

Looking around, I saw a backpack nearby, and knew from Dennis's memories that it contained astrolite. Looking up at his little drug extraction process, I now understood exactly what everything was, what step in the process each piece of equipment was involved in. I decided on a whim to gather some of the equipment up. _Not for any particular purpose. Just a relic of my old life, and this one that is now a part of my memories._ Carefully wrapping it up, I placed it alongside the astrolite. I grabbed Dennis's gun, gathering another relic of this new life. I left the drugs behind, uninterested.

Walking out of the room, I remembered vicariously that Dennis stashed Mercurio's money in a nearby air vent. Opening it up, I grabbed the cash inside. $250. _Not bad. Sorry Mercurio, but I'm in pretty bad financial straits. Cash doesn't seem to be a problem for you, anyway._ I stuffed the cash in my pocket, making a mental note to buy a wallet later.

I walked through the empty house and out the door. I saw the front gate guard I'd fooled earlier, running towards me, fists up. _He wants to fight with fists? You know what, I'll indulge you. Give you a fair fight._ I'd never had a sense of combat honor before. I'd always been weak, and fought dirty when necessary, running every other time. Earlier tonight I'd just done whatever was necessary to kill the other guy first. _Maybe I picked this up from Dennis. Maybe it's the fact I'm no longer a stranger to violence. But all I know is, I want to show this guy that he's pathetic compared to me._

With a swing, he connected with my jaw. I returned the punch. He stumbled back, dazed but far from defeated. He was more cautious now, keeping his fists up. I tried to hit him, but he kept blocking and quickly smashing his fists back at me, sometimes connecting. I felt my jaw crack once. I could tell I was hurting this guy, but he was tough, and fast, and wasn't slowing down. _Damn. I don't know the first thing about fighting. I wish I was stronger. I wish I was…_

It was a strange sensation, like the essence of all I'd just absorbed from Dennis was flowing into me. This sense of growth flowed into my arms, my muscles, at my desire. I felt a lot of the memories dull, even as my sense of invulnerability and strength grew. Suddenly my punches couldn't be blocked as easily. Each one knocked him back further and further. Smiling in wonder at this new sense of power, I threw a punch with all my strength, connecting with his guard so hard he was knocked on his back.. I jumped on top of him, snarling wildly, and smashed his face in with my fists. He put his hands around my throat, trying to choke me. _Admirable, and not a bad idea, but pointless on me._ I hit him directly on his temple with all my strength. He went limp. Just to be safe, I snapped his neck.

I stood up, seeming to get a head rush. As both the pleasure of the blood and the thrill of the violence wore off, I felt a strange daze settle over my mind. Looking down at the corpse beneath me, face mutilated beyond recognition by my bare hands, I felt like my life had just spiraled out of control. I didn't know who or what I was any more. The violence and the memories were just too jarring, too much of a change. Just wanting to be away from the site of such violence and strangeness, I ran away from the house as fast as I could, trying to outrun what I was becoming.

.

.

.

**That's all folks. I was hoping to get through more, but I seem to be a little… verbose with my descriptions. Honestly, I need an editor, or at least someone to bounce ideas off of. If anyone is interested in helping me out, I would really appreciate it. I can't really offer you anything, other than a mention in the credits, and the fact that you'd get a chance to read each chapter before it comes out. Send me a PM if you're interested. **

**To those of you in the US: Have a happy 4th** **of July! At the very least, it's an excuse to get drunk and set off high-speed explosives. What could be more fun than that?**


	7. Chapter 6: End of the Night

**Hey everyone! Back again after a month, and what a hectic month it was! I got a new job which has me going 50 hours a week, moved into a new apartment, and Starcraft 2 came out. So I hope you can forgive me for taking my sweet time with the latest chapter.**

**Okay, well obviously the people here strongly disagreed with my statement regarding the cannon of VTM. I apologize to everyone, and promise right here, right now that I'm going to stick to the official canon. **

**Really, I was just venting a lot of frustration I had over the fact I never got to play the original World of Darkness or Vampire the Masquerade. I was interested at the time, but the game ended right as I was trying to get into it. So, because of that, I'm not very familiar with the original rules and canon. So in a way, I was kind of trying to cover my ass. I'm going to make mistakes in my attempt to follow the canon, so I figured I may as well try and ignore it. There are pretty big gaps in my knowledge. The only thing I know for sure is the Bloodlines game. So I'll do the best I can to follow it, but don't expect me to be perfect. Also, Lucuis is going to have his own theories and conceptions of the world around him. Don't expect his theories to follow cannon, since he obviously can't read the book of Nod or anything. **

**So, I hope I didn't offend anyone too much. I'm glad to see that VTM and oWOD is still alive and has strong supporters. If anyone wants to try and play the original, I've been talking with Rednightmare about setting up a forum where we could keep the original game world alive, form storytelling groups, and play the game in written out form online. Of course, seeing as how I am unfamiliar with the original rules, I have no intention of being the storyteller for any game, but I am interested in playing.**

**So anyway, enough ranting. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I stumbled down the stairs, leaving my thoughts behind me up on the cliff.

As the gate at the bottom of the stairs swung shut behind me, I looked out at the group of fellow Kindred gathered around the fire on the beach. The sight of them helped calm me down. After what I had just done, I needed some serious talk therapy with people who could understand what I had been through, what I had become. I had no sense of equilibrium - no sense of normal, sane, or good. All my ideas on how to live and stay centered that I used when I was a human no longer applied. Not now that I had that _thing_ inside me. Not now that I had taken so many lives, _consumed_ so many lives. But here, gathered around this fire, were beings like me, fellow killers, fellow predators. Beings who had to have been doing this longer than I had. _I only hope they aren't hostile. That one woman seemed strange, but she helped me, so that's something._ Taking a deep breath, I walked over to them.

As soon as I started heading over, though, a muscular shirtless member of the group came out to confront me. He seemed wary, looking me over with blue eyes that had worry lines around them, even though he looked no older than twenty. His face looked slightly pudgy, and he looked like he used to smile a lot. He wasn't smiling now. I tensed up, expecting more aggressive confrontation. Instead, I was presented with a fearful plea that threw me off balance - to the point I barely noticed his Australian accent. "Listen, it's like I told you types a thousand times now – we know we can't hunt around here, alright? We're minding our own business; no reason to hassle the weaklings."

I was taken aback by his words. I had no idea what he was talking about, and honestly I didn't care. I just needed to talk to some other Kindred. "Look, I'm not here to hassle you. I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm kind of new to this whole vampire thing. So don't worry about me."

He eyed me with a mixture of suspicion and relief. "You mean you ain't here to run us off?"

I gave him a reassuring smile. "No, not at all. I was actually wondering if I could sit down and hang out with you guys for a bit."

He was taken aback. He took a second to think, then replied, "Um, yeah, sure, that's fine, though you'd be the first. Most of the time the other… vampires are here to chase us off. We're getting pretty sick of it. Someone citing domain or in the worst cases, hunting us for sport."

_Guess it's no cakewalk over here, either. Good, we can commiserate together._ "Look, I just want to hang out. I've had a rough night. I think you can relate. Can I take a seat?"

"Yeah, sure, hop on that log and gather round the bonfire," he said with a relieved smile.

I could feel the tension being sucked out of the group as I sat down. They had all risen to their feet; some had even picked up nearby backpacks, as though in preparation to flee. Now they cautiously sat back down. The tension was greatly reduced, but still present. The shirtless guy sat down next to me on the log. Everyone was awkwardly staring at me, unsure of what to say or do. _Great. Looks like I'm gonna have to break the ice. I was never good at this._

"Name's E, the shirtless guy said, saving me from the burden of starting the conversation. "that's Julius..." he pointed to a punk-looking vampire with an anarchist t-shirt and a mohawk, "...and that's Copper." He pointed to a copper-haired, shy-looking guy in jeans and a t-shirt. "I think you already met Rosa. She, uh introduced herself to you as you were walking up." The dark-haired hispanic woman in a brown leather coat and deep, piercing black eyes was off on her own, staring at the ocean.

"Nice to meet you guys. I'm Luke- er, Lucius," I awkwardly responded.

"What, forget your own name?" E jibed.

"Luke was my... human name. I decided to change it to Lucius. I'm pretty new to this whole vampire thing, so I still think of myself as Luke."

I quickly discovered that these guys had even less understanding of Kindred traditions than me. "Why'd you decide to change your name?" E asked me.

Looking at him with surprise, I answered, "Um, that's just the tradition, I guess. I mean, your Sire is supposed to name you, but..." I turned my eyes down, stung once again by the memory of Serena, wondering if they'd judge me for having a traitorous sire or something. I needed to reach out, however, and these guys seemed nonjudgmental enough. "...mine was killed almost as soon as I was embraced."

Looking up with worry, I was relieved to see sympathy in E's eyes. "Sorry to hear, man. My own... sire you, said? Haven't seen her since my... embrace, you called it." It was now E's turn to look down, to deal with his issues and regrets. "I sort of ran her off after what happened. I just... I just had a hard time accepting it, I suppose. Since then I've had to deal with... _this_ on my own. I mean, we've all got each other, but our little group is pretty clueless. You're probably the most in-the-loop person we've met yet. At least, the most in-the-loop person who's hasn't been trying to run us off. How'd you find all this stuff out, anyway?"

The concept that any Kindred could be less informed than me hadn't even entered my mind. I thought back to the poor Sabbat bastards who didn't even realize they were Kindred, and it occurred to me that perhaps I was just being a self-absorbed whiner. "Um, I dunno. Just other Kindred; mostly the Camarilla. They're like the vampire government or police or something. Of course, those assholes expect you to work your ass off for them, and then they still keep you in the dark. I was just up in that house, doing a job for them."

"Ah," E said, emanating trepidation. "Yeah, we were kind of wondering about the gunshots up there. Did everything... did everything go well for you?"

Smiling awkwardly, I stumbled around the memories of what I'd done up there. It seemed like a dream. _That couldn't be me: studious, awkward Luke. I didn't just go up there and kill a house full of drug dealers. I didn't just drain Dennis dry. No, that was someone else. I never... but I'm not studious, awkward Luke any more, am I? So who is this Lucius I've become?_Suddenly, the way I presented myself to these fellow Kindred was extremely important to my sense of self. I felt like it would define what I had become, what I would be from here on out. I tried to carefully choose my words, trying to figure out how I'd explain myself. Refusing to look at anyone, my eyes fixed on the undulating chaos of the fire as I tried to understand and relay what I was becoming, I responded to E's inquiry. "I mean, I came out of it alive, if that's what you mean. I don't know how okay I am with what I had to do up there, but... it was kill or be killed. Have you... have you ever drained a person dry? Drunk their blood until you killed them?"

"Um... no, can't say I have. Got no interest in doing it, either. I may be a lot of things, but I won't be a murderer." The conviction in his voice was genuine.

"I envy you. I felt the same way earlier tonight. But I wasn't given a choice. I was thrown into violence. But... we all still have choices. I mean, with those Sabbat assholes earlier tonight, it was kill or be killed. But with the humans up there..." I sighed. "It's just that... I guess I was weak. The Beast... that God-damned Beast." I looked up into E's eyes, hoping for sympathy, or at least understanding. All I saw was a blank look with a twinge of fear, and the haunting music blasting from the nearby boombox twisted his coldness into my heart. "You know what I'm talking about, right? That voice... in your head? Telling you to kill and feed? You hear it too, right? You feel it too?" The blankness in his eyes was driving me insane, and I wondered if he thought I was a monster. I no longer felt safe and at home with him. I felt threatened. The musical crescendo rising across the fire from the boombox only highlighted my anxiety to the point that I almost felt the bestial _fight or flight_ reflex rising in me once again.

"I - I know," interrupted a voice from across the fire. "I know what y-you're t-t-t-talking about." The hesitant, stuttering guy gently brushed aside my fear, my growing sense of disconnection and madness. I connected a name to the face. Julius. His punk appearance was completely at odds with his embarrassment at the looks he was receiving from the rest of the group.

"Stop freaking us out, man!" The shout came from Copper, who seemed quite unnerved by the whole affair. "Why the hell are you all talking about crazy shit, like voices in your head telling you to kill people? I can't take this anymore, man!" With that he got up and stormed off from the circle, walking along the beach.

I tried to make sense of this group dynamic, trying to find some kind of temporary place within it, yet I seemed to just be tearing apart the only social safety net these Kindred had by my mere presence. _Does chaos and pain follow me wherever I go?_Julius broke me from my melancholy reverie with a reassurance. "Don't w-w-w-worry ab-b-b-bout him, man. He, he, he..."

"He's just had a bit of difficulty adjusting," E interjected. "Still, even I have to admit what you're talking about seems a little... wonky. I'm not judging, but you were freaking me out a bit, mate. What exactly was it you were you trying to say, Julius?" It seemed clear to me E was the steadfast glue that held this whole group together.

"I, I, I, I," Julius stuttered, seeming to be unsure of whether to go ahead with the confession he had begun earlier. "I was j-j-j-just trying t-t-t-to say, I g-g-guess, that I..." His eyes darted around, to me, to E, and finally to fire. Staring at it intently, he seemed to find his voice. With a whisper, he produced his confession flawlessly. "I've heard the voice, too." His eyes darted up to mine. Understanding and compassion radiated forth from my face – I was so happy to have some validation, to not feel insane. A nervous, relieved smile darted across his. I nodded appreciatively.

Looking over to E, whose eyes were darting back and forth between us while his face wore a furrowed brow, I asked him, "You know what we're talking about, right? That urge, that voice?"

"Well," E responded, "I don't know about any voice, but I do know about the urge. But... you can't just give in to that. I mean, the things I want to do sometimes... it's just not right, you know?"

Quickly smiling back at him, trying to reassure him, I responded, "No, I'm not saying we should give in. But you have to acknowledge it. I mean, it's a part of being... of being what we are. It's like hunger. Do you let yourself starve because you can't buy food and stealing is wrong? No,you've got to find some way to deal with it, you know? Eventually you'll go crazy from hunger and steal some food. You've got to eat one way or the other, but you can do it on your terms if you don't let yourself go hungry. I mean, as long as we can still decide what we're doing, as long as we're in control, we should be fine, right?"

E seemed reassured by this. Or at least, he wasn't looking at me fearfully any more. Instead, he was sitting back and thinking. "Okay, I guess. But, I mean, how can you be fine with that feeling? Like, how can you just accept that now when you see a person, you just want to, to, to..."

"Heh, y-y-you're s-starting to s-s-s-sound like m-m-me." Julius joked. That brought chuckles forth from all three of us. It felt good, to be laughing about little things as we spoke about something so troubling. _Amazing, how much humor can help deal with even the most bizarre of situations. Laughing with others makes me feel so... human. Still... how do I feel about the Beast? About what I've done? I suppose... I'm okay with what I am. I sought out answers and excitement and escape, and if I had to give up a great deal of what I was to achieve that, so be it. I chose this. True, Serena never directly let me choose, but looking back, she gave me plenty of opportunities to get out, to move on with my life, and I turned them all down. I could see that the path was leading to something strange and terrible, empowering and enlightening. Regardless, rejection of what I am serves no purpose. Managing what I am is the only sensible response. It's not about good or evil, at least not in my old, human conceptions of those ideas. It's more about in or out of control. No need to feel guilty about feeding, or even killing if necessary, but recognize how dangerous and addictive they are, and keep the Beast in check._

Happy with my new rationalistic, practical view of this existence, I decided to make it concrete and real by articulating this new worldview. "Look, I guess I'm just trying to say: it is what it is, and you just have to deal with it. Our whole sense of right and wrong that we had in... in our last lives, our lives – when we were living? It doesn't work now. We're something different now, undead predators. We just have to live- to exist with that. I mean, we should still remember what we were, since that made us what we are now, I think... You can't fight what you are. But you don't have to accept it all blindly, especially the Beast. You just need to manage it. Accept that these urges exist, and refuse to lose yourself to them. Which you can do by satisfying them before you lose control. I mean, this new existence isn't all bad. Just keep it under control, and you get to be yourself, but you can also be superhuman. That'sbad, right?" _Much better. Make this Bittersweet Now more manageable for yourself and everyone around you. If they believe it, I might just be able to convince myself of it, and stop this Hemorrhage of conscience, this loss of humanity that seems to accompany every action in this new existence. It might just help me feel warm and Innocent in some small way again._

E seemed a little unsure, but there was the slightest twinge of a smile there. Julius, however, seemed like he wasn't even here, just staring at the fire with a faraway look. I was hoping to get a feel for what was going through the head of the only being I felt I had any real connection with, but E cut into my inquiring looks with a rather pertinent question. "So, I mean, how do we do that? Like, you said something about rules and stuff. What do you think we should be doing to keep it all under control? 'Cause I won't lie, man; some of us…" He cast a rather conspicuous glance at Julius, who was still in his fiery reverie. "…have been having a bit of trouble keeping it all on the level."

I was now put in a rather awkward position. On the one hand, it was an opportunity to further enunciate this newly birthed worldview and help fellow Kindred survive and thrive. On the other, I was worried about advising someone when I was so ignorant myself. W_hat if my worldview turns out to be nonsense? I mean, I only made it up just now. What if all I end up doing is dragging these guys down with me? What if I know just enough to lead them down the wrong path? What was that quote Serena loved to throw at me when I was getting arrogant? "The fool who knows he is a fool is wise, but the fool who thinks he is wise is a true fool." Ah, but one could worry about these things forever. What little I know must be better than nothing. _"Okay, so I don't know that much. I kind of got the crash course version of things, and there could be a lot I'm leaving out here. But here's the basics. Within each of us is a Beast, when it comes out, you lose control until it's satisfied. It comes out when we're hungry or angry, so stay calm and stay full. We each have to hold on to pieces of our Humanity, what we once were, so don't kill the innocent, especially when you feed. But above all else, remember Rule Number One, the most important, the one that will get you killed if you don't follow it: don't let humans know about us. They've got this name for it - the Masquerade. Don't feed in public, don't use any powers in public - basically just keep our existence a secret."

They both nodded. Julius was now paying attention to me, and even Copper had ambled back over. Rosa was still off in her own little world. Julius spoke up. "B-b-but don't p-p-p-people have a right to kn-kn-know? I mean…"

It was an interesting point, the concept that there was a right to knowledge. Serena had always insisted that truth was a privilege, to be earned. I agreed with that assessment. "Look, if people knew about us, they'd kill us. It's simple self-preservation. Besides, those who really want to know can find out. I wanted to figure out the truth and, well… I got what I wanted. Most people are happy with the lie, I think, and if they aren't then they'll be driven to find out, and end up like us."

That seemed to give them some food for thought. E was the first to speak up. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to know about any of this. If I had known, I would have stayed the hell away from here."

"Where are you from, anyway?" I asked. "And what makes you think there aren't any vampires where you come from?

E chuckled at that. "Australia. And somehow the idea of Australian vampires just seems… silly. Though I guess I am one. Heh. Sounds like a bad B-movie plot or something. _Vampires: Down Under_. _Crocodile Dundee vs. the Dark Creatures of the Night_." We all chuckled a little at that.

"So how'd you end up undead in LA?"

"I'd just came to town for a surf tourney – seems like years ago, but it's been about six months now. Every night during the finals, I used to hit the local diner after the beach parties fizzled out in the A.M. That's where I met her…" I smiled a little, realizing that all of us probably had stories like this, being pulled in by someone fascinating. "She had a natural beauty, not like all the plastic dolls littering the sand. Her name was Lily. I remember introducing myself – the way she seemed grateful for the company. Well, a few nights after our meeting, we were on the beach alone, and…" E stopped, seeming to have difficulty going on. I could understand. Thinking back to my own embrace, I still wasn't sure how to feel. The pleasure, the pain, the fear, and the release of finally knowing… "She tried to tell me what she was, but I didn't understand. And so, she showed me. I was furious with her when I took it all in. I cursed her and left, never really knowing what I was. I realize now how she must've felt. So, here I am now, a mystery to myself."

I nodded, feeling a strong empathetic link to this lost Kindred. We were both orphaned, both thrown out into a world with almost no direction or sense of what we were. I suddenly cared very deeply about E and his Lily. "Hey man, I understand. I had to watch my sire turn to ash in front of me. Do you know if she's still alive?"

With a bitter chuckle, E replied, "Clinically, no. But honestly, I don't know. I suppose I'd have moved on by now if I didn't think she'd show up one of these nights. I've got a lot left to say to her."

That hit deep. I had so much I wanted to talk to Serena about. I was never going to get the chance. But E might not be stuck in that position. Call it existing vicariously, but I… "I'll keep an eye out for her, man. Any idea where she might be?"

His smile radiated gratitude, to the point I swore I could almost see an aura of it around him. "Thank you, Lucius. Hope you have better luck than I did. I doubt you'll find anything, but it's the fact you're kind enough to try that really counts. No one's been particularly friendly to us in this city. Only reason we're in Santa Monica's 'cause we haven't been chased out yet."

I couldn't help but be curious about this group's predicament. _Did they do something? Am I getting mixed up with Kindred criminals? No, that's ridiculous. They're too in the dark to have done anything... I hope._ "Why do you think all the other Kindred keep running you out?"

Shrugging, E replied, "Don't know. We all seem to have come down with the same disease – ah hell, who am I kidding, we're a bad horror show. And we," he gestured to the group around the fire, "seem to be the runts – the mistakes. The other vampires, er, Kindred, you called them?" I nodded. "The other Kindred call us Thin Bloods… I say we're all equally screwed."

My academic curiosity kicked back in. "Huh. Any idea what a Thin Blood is?"

Shaking his head, E responded, "Damned if I know. I know you don't want to be one. I know I wish I could change back, if I could."

Trying to reassure him, I replied, "Look, there's no point in saying that. You're stuck like this, and you just have to accept it."

E sighed. "That's what Lily tried to tell me. But what I don't understand are the rules and the terms and the reason some of 'em are at our throats claiming we're harbingers of the apocalypse. That's what I want to know."

"Harbingers of the apocalypse? Hell if I know about that nonsense. I know I don't believe it. Who's saying that?"

"Usually the vamps chasing us off. We've all been pushed out of our home cities, except for me - I just got stuck here. Usually it's some group called the Sabbath or some such thing. I think you mentioned them before, didn't you?"

With a sigh, I replied. "Yeah, the Sabbat. Stay the hell away from them. They're crazy, and my only experience with them is them trying to kill me. My advice to you: run from them, or kill them if you can. If you run into the Camarilla, tell them you know about the Masquerade and you're going to keep things on the down low. They just want to make sure their rules are followed. Of course, I'm sure they've got a whole code of laws I don't know about, but the Masquerade seems to be the big one. Other than that… good luck. That's all I can offer you, 'cause that's all I know. Now, I think the sun's coming up soon, and I've got a backpack to deliver, so if you don't mind, I should get going."

Nodding appreciatively, E said goodbye. "Thanks, mate. We really appreciate it. I don't know where Lily is, but I met her at this diner across the street from this club - The Asylum it was called. Anyway, we've got about an hour 'til we all fry, so don't stay out too long. We'll head to our little overcrowded apartment in a bit. Thanks again, Lucius. Good luck out there."

Smiling appreciatively, I got up and wandered off. I took one last look at the little group. Copper was slowly sitting back down on the log, and small conversation seemed to be breaking out. I liked to think that there was an air of ease around that fire that had been lacking before. I knew I certainly felt better. Just the opportunity to relate my issues, to articulate a plan for this new existence, had given me an anchorage that had been lacking since my embrace. But perhaps most importantly, I felt satisfied and happy with myself. _Why? _I asked myself I wandered into the tunnel and my new group of acquaintances passed out of sight. The answer came to me as I reached the top of the stairs and entered the parking deck. _As corny as it sounds... it felt good to help them. It felt good to be reaching out to someone. It felt_… _anti-beast like. Maybe that's how you keep the Beast inside. I think I'll try and lend a hand to anyone that's willing to be decent to me. I mean, I'm not going out of my way or anything, but I'll put in a decent effort._

Smiling at this new, incredibly cheesy addition to my life plan (_er_… _unlife plan?)_, I wandered out of the parking deck, onto the seedy streets of Santa Monica.

My eyes were drawn to the pedestrians cluttering the street as I walked down it. With the night almost over the crowd had thinned, the night owls and partiers had clocked out, and everything had entered a strange limbo between night and day, with only the vestiges of the receding darkness scurrying around to finish their business before the sun chased them away. I couldn't help but think of the people around me in a detached and predatory way, despite my commitment to be altruistic. My experience in the house had emphasized just how different I was from all these creatures around me. It wasn't just that I could feed on them. It wasn't just that I was immeasurably stronger than any of them. No, it was the realization that all they would ever experience or understand was what they saw and heard; that all they touched and all they could see was all their life would ever be. But me? I had a different way of experiencing the world. I could take their lives right out of their veins, experience it vicariously, learn from it, enjoy it, and make it part of myself. It occurred to me that in many ways Kindred became far more than single individuals. I thought what it must be like to have lived for years and years, and experienced countless lifetimes through one's fangs in that time. The implications of what this new existence meant were staggering. I could think of no apt comparison to this packing of multiple lifetimes of memories into the mind of a single individual. _Oh wait, the Reverend Mothers in Dune. Holy hell, did Herbert know about Kindred? Every time I think I've got a handle on this new reality_…

I had become so lost in my own thoughts that I barely noticed that I had reached the front doors of Mercurio's apartment building. In a daze, I looked up at the numbers, realized where I was, and walked in. I was greeted by the sight of a cleaning crew thoroughly scrubbing the floors that were still covered in blood. The memories of Mercurio's desperate situation came rushing back to me like the flood I'd experienced when I drained Dennis. I ran down the hallway and threw open the door, only to be confronted by a motionless Mercurio on the couch. I rushed up to him in a panic, afraid for a moment that he was dead. However, even before my hand reached his neck to check his pulse, I could sense that he was alive. Looking at his face, I realized it was turned up in a terrible grimace; in fact, his entire body was not limp, but drawn tight into a fetal position. _Holy shit, he must be in a lot of pain._ I felt sorry for the guy, but not as sorry as I'd felt earlier. It occurred to me then that I had become more detached than I had been before, that I was having real difficulty empathizing with this… _this human being. It was one thing to commiserate with fellow Kindred. And yet_…

_**Why bother, Lucius? **_ _**It's not your problem. The sun's coming up soon; you can feel it, can't you? You did your job. You satisfied those in power. It's this little kine's fault he got messed up. He should have done his job. Just drop off the astrolite and let LaCroix know about his little pet's mistake so you don't face his wrath if his pet dies.**_

_You know what, beast? I was seriously considering just leaving this guy alone, but I think I'll help him out just because you felt like butting in. I don't like you. In fact, I kind of despise you. The biggest goal of my new unlife plan is to keep you at bay. And helping people doesn't just apply to Kindred. If I can help Mercurio without burning up, I will._

Armed with my new resolve, I gently dropped the backpack to the floor and shook Mercurio. He reacted with more wincing. "Hey, Mercurio? I got good news. I got the Astrolite back, and Dennis isn't going to be a problem for you any more."

"Mmmm…" Mercurio moaned. "Uh… good. Ah, shit!" He cried out as he tried to sit up, slumping back into the couch.

"Hey man, is there anything I can do to help you? You seem pretty messed up. The sun's gonna be up soon, but if you there's anything I can do that only takes twenty minutes or so…"

"Painkillers. Strong ones. Check the hospital. Offices in the back." With that, he curled up into himself even more tightly, as though he was suffering from tetanus.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. No promises, though. If the sun's coming up, I'm going home. So don't hold your breath. OK?" Mercurio made a small nod with his head, and I hurried out of the building, hoping to help this poor soul before I risked death by sunlight. I was already feeling agitated. I could sense this overwhelming danger approaching, like a terrible natural disaster or a stalking predator. _Now the hunter is hunted._

I ran across the street, and hurried into the hospital. Once inside, I tried to rush straight into the back, only to be stopped by the receptionist. "Excuse me, sir, but you have to wait for a doctor to see you."

Stopping in my tracks once again, I cursed my bad luck. _Fuck this, maybe I should just give up. Let's try one more thing._ "Look, I'm trying to see someone. They're really hurt - I want to make sure they're OK. Can you let me past?"

I watched with relief as her eyes registered recognition. "Oh, you mean Heather Poe?"

Playing along, I nodded. "Yeah, Heather. I heard she was here. Is she OK?"

The receptionist suddenly looked very worried. "I'm afraid not. We haven't been able to reach anyone about her. Truth be told, I don't know if she'll… ah, but I'm sure she'll be glad to see you. What's your name?"

"Luke." I responded automatically, and realized it would be weird to correct myself, so I let it stand.

"Okay Luke. Go on ahead. She's in the first door on your left, room one."

Nodding appreciatively, I hurried back. As I passed room one, I looked back and realized the receptionist was watching. Turning to the room, I opened the door and went inside to preserve the lie.

The sight that greeted me was as macabre as the one I found in Mercurio's room. In one way, it wasn't as bad, since there wasn't as much blood – just a small splotch on her chest, ruining the yellow tank top she was wearing. She wasn't mangled like Mercurio – she actually looked human, cute even, with deep green eyes staring at me in desperation through long straight red bangs.. But she was also worse, because I could immediately tell the girl, who I assumed was Heather, was dying in front of my eyes. She had pushed herself up on her hands, and was trying to get up, but couldn't move, her wiry frame seeming hopelessly inadequate for the task. I could hear her trying to cry out for help, but she could barely pull air into her lungs. I heard a sickening gurgling when she tried to take in breath, followed by a weak but desperate scream. She could barely pull enough air into herself for a single word before she had to take another gurgling gasp. "Help! Please! Need… doctor!" I watched her face slowly turning blue. I added together her suffocation and the red on her chest, and realized that her lungs were probably punctured. I watched with impotent pity as she began gasping desperately for air that could not enter her bloodstream, could not give her life-sustaining oxygen. I looked into her eyes and saw an intense terror that broke through my sense of disconnection from mortals, that brought me back to the time I thought I was going to be buried alive, and I desperately wanted to do something to help her. _What can I do? This isn't my problem._ I would have turned around and walked right out, but for that small, almost inaudible chuckling from the Beast, reminding me of my new unlife plan. I stopped to think for a moment longer, and the solution clicked in my mind. _Of course_… _Mercurio is dealing with a punctured lung, no problem!_ At the very instant the solution hit me, however, Heather seemed to lose the ability to hold herself up, and collapsed onto the bed, eyes staring out at me with an insane desperation from the very pit of death itself. I rushed up to her, looked down at my wrist in frustration, then in desperation raised my wrist to my mouth and tore it open with my teeth. A thick, dark blood, almost black, seeped out. Looking down, I saw that Heather's eyes had closed. _Oh shit. She's not dead, but what if she's too far gone?_ I insistently thrust my wrist into her mouth. She began gently suckling at the font of life I offered, looking like a newborn baby. Suddenly, she pulled her head back from my wrist and took in a deep, desperate, but clear breath. Letting out a shuddering sigh of relief, she then grabbed my wrist with both hands and pulled it to her mouth. The resemblance to a newborn baby was now gone. She drank deeply, intensely, and almost… erotically. Little moans escaped her lips, and she clung to my wrist with an intensity that I was beginning to find unsettling. I could feel the energy flow out of me, feel myself getting hungrier, feel the Beast coming back and telling me to drain her and every nearby mortal dry. I tried to pull my wrist away, only to have her cling to it. With a jerk of superhuman strength, I parted her lips from their newfound love.

Suddenly separated from my wrist, Heather collapsed on the bed, moaning lightly. "Mmm..." Instinctively, I raised my wrist to my mouth to lick the remaining blood from it, only to find that the act of licking it had healed my self-inflicted wound. _Handy,that._ Heather seemed to be coming out of her delirium. Looking up, she gazed over at me, narrowing her eyes through hipster glasses. "You…Who…who are you? What did you do? What did you do to me?"

"Um…" I was suddenly caught off guard. I hadn't really thought through the implications of my actions, and now I had to make up something on the fly. "Nothing, don't worry about it. I, um…"

Shaking her head, she made it very clear she wasn't just going to accept my pile of BS. "No, you did something. I can feel it. It's… fixing me. You – I kissed your wrist. What did you do?"

_Shit. She was awake and aware of all that. Of course she was. She knows what she saw, but her brain is having trouble accepting it. Maybe if I can spin this, give her an explanation that fits with her understanding of the world_… "I was just… trying out a new medication. I don't know why you thought you kissed my wrist, but I did feed the liquid to you by hand. You were almost gone. You should rest. You've been through a lot."

I could see that she was still confused and traumatized, but her eyes seemed to register acceptance. Nodding slightly, she lay back down on the bed, and I slipped quietly out the door before she could question me further.

Looking around clandestinely, I made my way further back into the hospital, cursing myself for my foolishness. _**How's that altruism thing working out for you, Lucius? Just about got us found out. And it still could. How are you going to explain what you're doing to a security guard? And what are you going to do if the sun comes out while you're prowling around here? You're a weakling and a fool. You should listen to me if you want to stay alive, fledgling.**_ I was snarling a nasty response to the Beast under my breath right as I rounded a corner and came upon a security guard standing in front of a door marked "Supplies." I can only imagine what I looked like to him, hunched over, looking around furtively, muttering to myself. He looked at me with a mixture of disgust, suspicion, and worry. To him, I was a problem he was about to have to deal with.

"Excuse me, this part of the hospital is not for patients. What room are you in?"

I knew there was no talking my way out of this. _**You could kill him before he calls it in. You are mighty hungry, after all**_… Rejecting that solution offhand, I wracked my brain for an answer. "Sir? You need to move back, now." The guard had placed a hand behind his back, as though to get a radio. _Or a taser. Or a gun._ With yet another flash of insight, I began picturing symbols in my head and chanting incantations under my breath, all while staring intensely, unblinkingly, straight at the guard. I saw his eyes go wide, and saw his hand pull a taser out from his waistband, but that was as far as he got before the Trance kicked in. Suddenly, his hands were limp at his sides, his head was slumped over, and he was passed out for all intents and purposes. He seemed to be muttering under his breath, and I saw him twitch occasionally, but he wasn't making any major movements. I was phenomenally hungry now, but the hunger was equally matched by the overwhelming fear of the impending sunrise that now seemed to be firing through every nerve in my body. It was all I could do to keep the Beast from rising up. He was wailing and thrashing now. _**Kill him! Drain him and run to your haven, you fool!**_ Bearing down my will, I carefully snuck past the guard, avoiding touching him or making too much noise, completely uncertain of how strong this spell was. I entered the supply room, which had been mercifully left open. Quickly scanning the room, I saw a couple of bottles obviously labeled "Morphine." I noticed that some were pills, while one was pure liquid. Grabbing a nearby syringe for the liquid, I stuffed it all in my pockets and exited. Looking at the guard, I felt my hunger rise up, and decided that a quick bite couldn't hurt. I walked up to him and grabbed his head from behind. The Trance was broken, and he tried to struggle, but only for a moment before my fangs found his neck.

The blood was sweet and filling. His life was saccharine but complete. He had a wife and kids he loved, and he liked to believe he was helping people with his job. He was too nice to be a cop, and too liberal to join the army, but he had always believed in protection through force. He wasn't squeamish, but he was innocent. He'd seen gory things in the hospital, and seen junkies try and break into the storeroom, seen people shot in gang battles or stabbed over petty stuff being treated here, but he steadfastly retained his belief in the goodness of humanity. He'd never done anything he shouldn't. To this day I'm glad he had such an admirable life, because that was all that kept me from sating my hunger on his last drops of life.

Pulling my teeth back from the artery, I breathed in deeply, and then laughed at the similarity between me and that girl I'd just rescued, both of us barely able to pull our mouths away from the blood we wanted. _I need to keep from getting this hungry. That was too close, and this guy didn't deserve to die. Hell, who says Dennis deserved to?_ With that last unsettling thought, I ran past the guard and through the hallways, out towards the front desk. I slowed to a brisk walk as I approached an area where others could see me. The receptionist looked up as I walked past. _Shit. Another interruption._ Cutting her off preemptively, I told her, "She's gonna be OK. Thanks for letting me in. Excuse me, I've got to make a call." With that, I stepped out the door.

The sky was now a dark grey, and that alone seemed to set something off in my brain. I could see the pawn shop from here, and the urge to sprint over there was overwhelming. It took every ounce of my will to run instead into Mercuio's apartment. _Goddamnit, I will decide what I do, not the Beast, not instinct! _Even so, I couldn't help but worry if I was going to pay a very serious price for this obstinacy. Rushing into the apartment, I saw Mercurio still curled up on the couch. I roughly shoved his body, causing his eye to dart open and making him cry out in pain. "AAAH! SHIT!"

I was in no mood for niceties. Pulling the drugs out of my pockets, I roughly deposited them on the floor in front of him. "There you go. Morphine, in pill and injectable form." His addled brain seemed to barely register the presence of the pills or the concept that his suffering may be at an end. In fact, he seemed to be completely unable to move. With a sigh of frustration I picked up the syringe, filled it with the liquid painkiller, jabbed the needle into a vein in Mercurio's arm, my hand guided by Dennis' experience, and injected the stuff straight into his bloodstream. He immediately relaxed, tensed muscles no longer receiving desperate signals from overtaxed nerves, falling out of the fetal position and just lying down on the couch. Satisfied that I'd done all that could possibly be expected of me, that I'd completely triumphed over the Beast, I immediately ran back out, not even bothering to take the syringe out of Mercurio's arm.

The lack of black in the sky filled me with a primal terror. Even though the sun hadn't yet risen, I felt a burning across my skin, like terrible sunburn. I began to feel the way I imagined Mercurio had, muscles all tensing up at once, causing me to curl up in pain, back arching, arms pulled back and hands curled into the shape of claws while I screamed like a beast, baring my fangs. I saw a nearby individual dressed neatly in a business suit staring at me in open fear. I sprinted down the road, fleeing with reckless abandon towards the pawn shop, loving the cool relief of the shadow of the alley but knowing it wouldn't protect me. I fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one, not even hearing the cries of the nearby bum. _C'mon, c'mon, which one for the fucking door? Finally!_ I was about to enter sweet sanctuary when another mortal sought to delay me, the bum reaching out and grabbing my arm. _**Wrong move, kine!**_ With absolute fury I shoved him off with my full strength, bolstered by insane fear, and slammed him back into the nearby dumpster, causing him to pass out and putting a small dent in the green metal box. I didn't take the time to be shocked at my actions; a desperate terror had overwhelmed me, and rational thought was impossible.

Flinging the door open, I crawled up the stairs on all fours. Upon reaching the top, I flew through the door to my apartment, only to be confronted by the increasingly bright grey streaming through my windowsr. Before, it had felt like sunburn. Now, venturing into the little pools of light felt like burning steam scalding me. But still, I knew what I had to do to be safe. Grabbing the wooden boards in one hand, hammer and nails in the other, I jumped up on the desk. Holding the boards up like shields, I kept them between me and the hateful light streaming from the windows on either side of me. I started hammering the nails in the corners as fast as I could, first into one board, then the other. Grabbing the last board, I jammed it onto the final window, slammed the nails in as quickly as possible, and finally felt the mind-numbing terror subside.

Collapsing into the only chair in my haven, I felt terrible exhaustion for the first time since my embrace. I'd been tired before, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, but physical exhaustion had not been a part of my existence until now. Suddenly, it fell upon me like a lead blanket, crushing me down beneath its weight. There was no chance to reflect on my night, no opportunity to collect myself. I felt like the act of thinking, of moving, of existing was the most tremendous burden, and all I could comprehend was how wonderful it would be to just give it all up and fade away into nothingness for eternity. Suddenly, that eternity of being buried alive that had terrified me earlier didn't seem all that bad. It was all I could do to lift myself from my chair, stumble to the filthy bed, and crawl into it. Pulling myself onto the mattress, I was only allowed one final thought before oblivion took me.

_This has been one fucked up night._

.

.

.

**That's it for our first night with Lucius. Hope you guys will join him for many more nights. **


	8. Chapter 7: Wash Away the Rain

**I would like to thank Flying Frog, Citrus334, and of course Rednightmare for your reviews. I would also like to thank Rednightmare for Beta reading this chapter and the last one. If my work is polished and professional, it's her you have to thank for it. I think you're going to enjoy this one - it's nice and juicy.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I did not dream. The sleep of the Kindred is the void of death. I have seen such strange things in my waking hours that I feel I don't need the surreal escape of dreams to be whole. In fact, I now consider the experience of being a Kindred to be rather like a waking dream. Some would consider it a nightmare, others the ultimate fantasy fulfillment. I simply consider it to be bizzarre and fascinating, a unique perspective from which to understand oneself and the universe.

Consciousness returned to me in a single instant: one moment I was a corpse, the next I was a self-aware corpse. The desire to rise, however, did not return as quickly. My mind immediately grasped back towards the nothingness it had been in, and the thought of simply spending eternity lying on this filthy mattress suddenly seemed like paradise. Of course, I'd always been the type to sleep in past my alarm when I was alive. I'm not sure how long I lay there, aware but not awake. Half an hour or so, I think. I awoke the instant the sun went below the horizon, but I still would have been burned if I'd stepped outside. As the sun sank further and further, and the sky grew darker and darker, the desire to lie completely still and retreat back into oblivion became fainter and fainter, until I finally willed myself to rise. Even so, my energy levels were nonexistent. With a pitiful moan, I rolled myself off the bed and hit the floor with a 'thud.' I barely felt the pain. In fact, I barely felt anything. I felt like... well, like a walking corpse. With an effort, I pushed myself up, and then pulled myself to my feet with the help of the bed.

Shaking my head, I could barely summon the energy to form a thought. Coming through the entropic daze of oblivion, I felt an urge rising up from inside me... not just an urge, but THE urge. Mouth salivating, I stumbled over to the fridge. Wrenching it open, I all but fell upon the blood bags. Pulling one up to my mouth, I ravenously bit into it, and sucked that sweet, sweet lifeblood out. I was filled with a profound sense of pleasure, orgasmic and revitalizing, pulling me out of my torpor, lifting me up on a wave of ecstasy. I didn't just the feel pleasure, though; I could feel a warmth returning to me, flowing out from my fangs directly into my arteries, filling me with a sense of... not life, exactly, but the closest thing Kindred have to it. At least I no longer _felt_ like a corpse. It was invigorating, and I finally felt ready to seize the night.

Blinking a couple of times to clear the daze from my head, I finally had a chance to think about what I was going to do. After a moment of staring blankly at the inside of the fridge, I decided to leave the one remaining blood bag in there. _After__all,__who__knows__when__I__can__get__more?__I'd__hate__to__have__woken__up__without__that__right__here._ Closing the door, I tossed the empty bag onto the trash pile. I walked over to the boarded-up windows with trepidation. _Is__it__still__light__out?__I__know__the__sun__went__down,__but..._ After checking the time, I decided to risk a peek. Grabbing the board with my bare hands, I pulled with a sudden wrenching motion. The board came off with a nasty ripping sound. To my immediate relief, I saw only the darkness of night outside. My relief was interrupted by an angry slamming from the room below me, like someone smashing on their ceiling with a pole or something. _What's__his__problem?__I__mean,__that__was__loud,__but...__Wait,__what__time__was__I__hammering__nails__into__these__boards__last__night?__5__in__the__morning?__Oh__man,__my__neighbors__must__hate__me._ I couldn't help but chuckle. _Makes__you__sit__back__and__think.__How__many__of__the__people__who__were__living__in__my__old__apartment__building__knew__about__this__stuff?__How__many__were__Kindred__themselves?__How__would__I__have__known?__All__you__know__of__the__people__who__you__live__next__to__for__years__on__end__is__what__you__can__hear__through__the__walls,__what__you__see__when__you__briefly__pass__them__in__the__hallway._

Dropping the board, I walked into the bathroom to relieve myself. While washing my hands, I took a quick look at myself in the mirror, only to be taken aback by what stared out at me from the silvery window. For a brief moment I was surprised to see any reflection at all. _So__much__for__that__myth._ But the way I looked was distinctly... unsettling. I had never been particularly good-looking, though I'd never been especially ugly, either. Girls had always been more likely to describe me as "cute" than handsome. As I'd entered my thirties, I'd lost some of my youthful sheen, my skin had started to become less fair, my face had begun to sag slightly, frown lines got etched into the corners of my mouth, and my mop of straight but barely combed black hair had started to turn a bit gray. Still, I wasn't old-looking - just not young-looking either. But now... my face had become excessively pale, to the point that it looked like I'd never been in the sun. _I__suppose__I__never__will__be._ I'd developed dark circles under my eyes over years of over-working, but now those circles had deepened, and my eyes stared out from sunken sockets. As for my eyes themselves... there was something about the way they looked out at the world that was just... predatory. There was a sense of reassured power, and there was no warmth or compassion being offered. The face that stared at me was the kind that would cause mothers to pull their children close. _I__imagine__that__most__people__would__assume__I__was__a__junkie__if__they__saw__me.__Explains__why__the__thugs__at__Dennis'__place__assumed__I__belonged__there._ And yet... terrifying and ugly as it was, my face also seemed to have become more beautiful, more symmetrical, cleansed of blemishes. It was as though it had become beautiful from a purely theoretical point of view, yet had been drained of any of the human energy that would mark it as kind or good. My eyes radiated a terrible mystery, spoke of secrets they had seen, and impossible vistas of truth they had borne witness to. It was the kind of face, I imagined, that a fascinating, drug-addicted rock star might possess – one that would cause reckless young girls to get dangerously close, and one which would make their mothers forbid them from going out at night. I tried to intentionally make my face seem more open and kind, offering a smile to myself. While that certainly improved things, the smile seemed more like a grimace. My sunken eyes and pale, perfect yet ugly face were still frightening. _At__least__my__eyes__seem__a__bit__warmer.__God,__I__really__am__a__walking__corpse,__aren't__I?__Of__course,__I__suppose__it's__only__appropriate__that__a__predator__like__myself__have__a__face__that__would__inspire__fear.__I__guess__that's__just__one__more__thing__I__have__to__learn__to__live__with._

Pulling my eyes away from my reflection, they landed upon the nearby shower. Looking down at myself, it suddenly occurred to me that I had slept in my blood-soaked clothes, and was probably unsanitary as a dog that had just rolled around in a medical waste pile. _Of__course,__as__Kindred,__I'm__immune__to__disease,__but...__I__still__feel__dirty._ Peeling my clothes off, I turned the water on. To my surprise, even the water started to feel warm almost immediately. As a matter of fact, it only took a few seconds of the hot water running for it to feel unbearably hot. _There's__not__even__steam__coming__off.__As__a__matter__of__fact,__everything__has__felt__hot__since__my__embrace:__the__air,__every__surface,__and__being__within__10__feet__of__that__fire__on__the__beach__felt__sweltering.__Why?__Unless...__of__course,__my__body__temperature__has__dropped._I decided to just take a cold shower, since the cold water only felt lightly cool, and was actually pretty refreshing. I stepped into the shower, grabbed the single bar of soap, and proceeded to scrub myself clean of the grime and little pieces of my victims that had become embedded in my skin. Looking over myself, I saw various circles of scar tissue where bullets had broken my skin. Shutting the water off, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. _Nothing__like__a__shower__to__make__you__feel__like__a__civilized__being,__even__if__I'm__not__a__civilized__human__being__any__more._

Picking up my filthy clothes, it occurred to me that this was the only outfit I had: a pair of dirty jeans, and the strange red shirt Serena had given me while I was undergoing the embrace. Looking over the shirt, I carefully examined the various symbols on it. _Inverted__Pentagrams__-__the__seal__of__Baphomet.__Irregular__heptagrams,__seven-sided__stars__created__by__a__single__unbroken__line,__representing__the__ability__of__the__mortal__to__transcend__to__the__mystical.__Astrologically__significant__number__sequences__arranged__in__geometric__arrangements__mirroring__the__ancient__Temple__of__David.__Various__Roman,__Greek,__Aramaic,__Arabic,__and__Celtic__letters__and__runes,__arranged__in__ways__that__could__constitute__words__if__you__connect__them__in__the__right__order,__connect__the__dots__to__form__the__proper__shapes.__Fascinating.__I__wonder__what__the__mystical__significance__of__this__shirt__is?__Does__it__amplify__my__abilities?__Makes__sense.__I__imagine__I__wouldn't__have__pulled__off__any__of__the__Thaumaturgical__spells__without__this...__mystical__amplifier.__I__guess__it__saved__my__life.__Thanks__again,__Serena._

"_My__pleasure.__I__knew__you__might__need__some__help__after__your__embrace."_Once again, Serena's voice resonated from inside my head. Bewildered and naked, I truly felt like a lost child, alone and afraid, and I fell trembling to my knees on the filthy bathroom floor. I felt like I could cry, and yet no tears would come, for my first night as Kindred had made me hard, and it suddenly occurred to me that I would never be truly allowed to mourn. I felt cold, detached, and it was only through similar experiences from life (the death of my parents, specifically) could I truly feel the loss, the bewilderment, the desperate hope that I knew the voice of Serena ought to summon. Yet, at the same time, those memories from life came to my mind unbidden, and the echo of these powerful emotions overcame me as completely as the emotions had themselves while I was alive.

"S- Serena?" I queried the empty air, unsure what I was trying to accomplish. To my surprise, the voice answered.

"_I__can't__even__begin__to__imagine__what__you've__been__going__through.__Such__a__shame,__that__one__so__promising__should__be__subjected__to__such__a__brutal__and__disconcerting__first__night__as__Kindred.__Still,__I__did__my__best__to__prepare__you__for__such__a__situation.__You__proved__capable__of__learning__on__your__feet.__Indeed,__that__was__one__of__the__reasons__I__chose__you__for__the__embrace."_

It took me a moment to get over my shock and digest the words that were being spoken... though they seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. _How__do__I__even__know__they__belong__to__Serena?__Could__some__hostile__force__be__projecting__these__voices__into__my__mind?_

Serena's voice answered my thoughts. "_Very__good,__Luke.__That__kind__of__suspicion__will__serve__you__well__in__the__coming__nights.__Rest__assured,__however,__that__at__present__you__are__not__important__enough__for__any__being__capable__of__such__feats__to__bother__with__you.__You__low__social__status__and__disposability__will__actually__be__great__assets__to__you__for__some__time."_

Trying to collect myself, I decided to ask the most pressing question in my mind. "What should I do? How do I make sense of all this?"

I was greeted only by a disappointed sigh. "_Luke,__you__should__know__that__you__have__to__determine__this__for__yourself.__There__are__no__set__answers__regarding__such__questions.__I__don't__know__what__circumstances__you__are__going__to__encounter__in__this__new__existence.__I__won't__be__here__most__of__the__time,__and__you'll__have__to__use__your__best__judgment.__Don't__bother__asking__what__I__am,__either__-__I__don't__have__time__to__explain.__Seek__answers__where__burns__the__mystical__sun."_

Sighing with disappointment, I scolded myself. _I__should__have__known__how__she'd__answer__that__question.__Where__burns__the__mystical__sun?__Where__have__I__heard__that?_ Shaking my head in frustration, it occurred to me that Serena's voice had informed me that she was not present all the time, and therefore was probably unaware of much that had occurred. "I'm Lucius now. I chose that name, since you were..."

I felt approval wash over me. "_Well__chosen.__I__like__the,__the..."_

Smiling, I replied. "The historical irony of the joke contained within the meaning of the name?"

"_Ha!__Yes,__yes.__My,__it__really__is__amazing__how__well__you__came__to__know__me__in__such__a__short__time__-__how__carefully__you__doted__over__my__every__word,__my__every__gesture.__The__passionate__energy__of__the__living__and__the__newly__embraced__is__always__astounding.__Ah,__but__there__I__go,__waxing__lyrical__like__some__Toreador__poet__or__some__such__nonsense.__We__have__practical__matters__to__discuss."_ I eagerly awaited this new, and possibly final lesson from my former sire. "_The__circumstances__of__your__embrace__are__most__unusual.__While__they__were__not__entirely__unexpected__ – __don't__interrupt,__there__isn't__time__to__explain__ – __let's__just__say__that__the__worst__case__scenario__I__had__imagined__has__played__out__for__you__and__me.__Normally,__you__would__spend__time__as__a__fledgling__under__my__care,__or__at__the__very__least__under__the__care__of__an__adopted__Sire,__and__you__would__be__taught__the__traditions.__As__a__matter__of__fact,__it's__quite__unusual__for__a__Prince__to__send__a__newly__embraced__fledgling__like__yourself__out__into__the__world__alone,__let__alone__burden__you__with__a__dangerous__task__on__your__first__night__as__Kindred,__but__LaCroix__is__quite__an__unusual__Prince.__Suffice__to__say,__I__am__under__the__impression__that__he__is__hoping__you__will__either__be__killed__in__the__process__of__trying__to__complete__your__task,__or__else__unknowingly__violate__one__of__the__traditions__and__give__him__an__excuse__to__call__a__blood__hunt__on__you.__So,__it__falls__to__me__to__make__sure__you__are__ready__for__your__Becoming,__the__moment__when__you__are__no__longer__a__fledgling__and__can__be__released__on__your__own__into__the__world.__Normally__it__takes__months,__even__years__of__tutelage__before__the__Becoming__takes__place,__and__requires__the__approval__of__both__the__Sire__and__Prince.__As__it__is,__we__lack__the__luxury__of__time,__the__Prince__appears__to__already__approve,__and__I__give__my__approval__out__of__necessity,__though__I__severely__wish__circumstances__were__otherwise.__Knowledge__of__these__traditions__could__save__you__from__Final__Death,__and__I__cannot__repeat__them,__so__I__ask__that__you__listen__carefully__and__take__notes__as__I__dictate__them__to__you."_

Rising from my position on the bathroom floor, I quickly sat down in the chair by the desk and took out the notepad. I wrote down each tradition as it was related to me. "_The__first__tradition__you__no__doubt__already__know:__The__Masquerade.__Thou__shalt__not__reveal__thy__true__nature__to__those__not__of__the__Blood.__Doing__so__shall__renounce__thy__claims__of__Blood.__The__second__Tradition:__The__Domain.__Thy__domain__is__thy__concern.__All__others__owe__thee__respect__while__in__it.__None__may__challenge__thy__word__in__thy__domain.__You__will__find__many__domains,__and__many__struggles__between__domains__in__this__city.__You__must__respect__this__tradition__if__you__want__to__survive.__The__third__tradition:__The__Progeny.__Thou__shalt__sire__another__only__with__permission__of__thine__elder.__If__thou__createst__another__without__tine__elder's__leave,__both__thou__and__thy__progeny__shalt__be__slain.__Of__course,__execution__is__at__the__discretion__of__the__individual__Prince,__and__normally__is__reserved__for__repeat__offenders,__but__there__were...__special__circumstances__in__our__case.__The__fourth__tradition:__The__Accounting.__Those__thou__create__are__thine__own__childer.__Until__thy__progeny__shall__be__released,__thou__shalt__command__them__in__all__things.__Their__sins__are__thine__to__endure.__This__should__not__apply__to__you:__you__are__not__going__to__be__embracing__any__childer__-__don't__even__think__about__it.__As__for__my__responsibilities__over__you,__they__no__longer__apply,__as__I've__suffered__the__final__death.__Well,__for__the__most__part.__The__fifth__tradition:__Hospitality.__Honor__one__another's__domain.__When__thou__comest__to__a__foreign__city,__thou__shalt__present__thyself__to__the__one__who__ruleth__there.__Without__the__word__of__acceptance,__thou__art__nothing.__LaCroix__already__knows__about__you,__and__I__wouldn't__recommend__leaving__the__city,__but__this__applies__to__smaller__domains__as__well.__Finally,__the__sixth__tradition:__Destruction.__Thou__art__forbidden__to__destroy__another__of__thy__kind.__The__right__of__destruction__belongeth__only__to__thine__elder.__Only__the__eldest__among__thee__shall__call__the__blood__hunt.__The__most__ignored__tradition.__No__one__could__fault__you__for__defending__yourself__against__Sabbat__madmen,__but__even__in__seemingly__innocent__cases__it__can__still__be__used__as__a__technicality__against__you,__should__the__Prince__desire__your__death__for__other__reasons,__or__should__you__destroy__someone__politically__relevant.__Essentially,__it__means__that__you__shouldn't__kill__Kindred__without__the__Prince's__permission.__At__least__not__openly,__or__in__a__way__that__doesn't__aid__him."_

"_Memorize__these__traditions.__The__ability__to__recite__the__traditions__verbatim__is__one__of__the__key__tests__of__the__Becoming,__and__while__I__doubt__you__will__be__given__the__ceremony__you__deserve,__you__still__ought__to__know__these__by__heart.__One__final__word__of__warning:__do__not__openly__defy__LaCroix.__As__for__subtly__defying__him__ – __I__leave__that__up__to__your__discretion.__I__despise__him,__though__not__as__much__as__I__imagine__you__do.__But__you__must__be__practical__at__all__times."_

Rapidly finishing my notes, I eagerly sought to keep talking with my beloved sire. "Thank you, Serena. I was wondering..." As soon as I'd formulated a question, however, I knew that there would be no answer: the voice, spirit, or whatever it was, was now gone – I felt its presence depart. With a sigh, I looked down at my newly written notes. I took the time to carefully look over these traditions, whose violation could apparently end one's existence. Once I'd memorized them to the point I was sure I wouldn't violate any of them (_verbatim__memorization__can__wait__until__a__later__date_), I shook my head allowed my mind and eyes to wander. _What__was__it__she__said...__about__the__mystical__sun?_ My eyes came to rest on the elaborate note that had been here when I had come in, written by a Mister Strauss. _So__Serena__wants__me__to__go__there?__OK,__that's__the__first__place__I'm__going__once__I__get__to__downtown__LA.__Of__course,__to__do__that,__I__have__to__finish__my__task__here._ With a sigh, I was once again brought back to the harsh realities of my predicament, and the weight of the responsibilities thrust upon me. _Serena__said__that__the__Prince__wanted__me__to__fail__in__my__task,__to__die__trying.__I__don't__even__know__what__the__task__proper__is.__Still,__I__guess__there's__nothing__for__it__but__to__do__it.__Open__defiance__of__the__Prince__is__not__advised.__What__was__it__Duke__Leto__said?__"The__first__step__in__avoiding__a__trap__is__knowing__it's__there."__God,__even__as__member__of__the__undead__I'm__such__a__nerd.__Of__course,__unlike__most__D&D__nerds,__my__spells__actually__work._

Chuckling at myself a little, I decided to check on my window into my responsibilities. I booted up the laptop and logged onto the only available email account. There were two new emails in my inbox: one from LaCroix, and another from Mercurio. The one from LaCroix read: "I have been informed by Mercurio about the extenuating political circumstances regarding your appointed task. It falls to you to deal with this situation, and any others that should arise that prevent you from completing your task. I also expect nightly progress reports from you. Indeed, I expected such a report last night, and though I did not directly state such a desire, I assumed this desire to be obviously implied. Clearly, I shall need to be blunt with you at all times, as such subtle matters appear to escape you. I expect a response from you as soon as you receive this email, to insure that you have received it. See that you do not forget each nightly correspondence from this night forward."

Pursing my lips in frustration, I wondered what political circumstances he was referring to. Serena's warning was fresh in my mind, and was casting the entire situation I was currently enduring in a rather terrifying light. I was deeply grateful that she had informed me of the traditions – if I was about to wade into politics, understanding the rules of the game could be critical. I decided to open Mercurio's email to gather more information.

"Thanks again for all your help. I owe you. Come by when you get the chance, and I'll let you know what's going on. Sorry I couldn't tell you more last night, but I was pretty out of it." Even as I sighed at the lack of clear information, I couldn't help but smile. It was good to have someone who was friendly to you.

Still, I needed to compose a response to LaCroix, lest he use disobedience as an excuse to have me killed. I had no idea why he would want me dead – I hadn't done anything to him! Choosing my words carefully, I composed my response.

"Dear Prince LaCroix,

I apologize for my failure to check in with you. Being newly-embraced, I misjudged the time I had until sunrise. I assumed I could be out until the moment the sun came up; it did not occur to me that even pre-dawn light could be dangerous. As such, I was rather desperately boarding up my apartment windows right before sunrise, and was immediately overtaken by weariness shortly thereafter. I assure you that it will not happen again – the pain of the sun is a difficult lesson to forget. I will deal with any and all problems that arise in the course of the completion of my assigned task, and I look forward to sending you a favorable report at the end of the night tonight.

Lucius, Childe of Serena"

I was happy with my response. It played into his desires. _He__wants__to__see__me__dead.__Reading__that__I__was__nearly__burned__by__the__sun__will__make__him__think__that__I'm__so__incompetent__I__can__barely__feed__myself.__That__will__make__him__think__he__doesn't__have__to__do__anything__for__me__to__be__killed.__He'll__no__doubt__expect__me__to__be__dead__by__the__end__of__the__night._ _Heck,__he__probably__wants__these__progress__reports__so__he__can__know__when__I've__died.__Of__course,__I__was__pretty__dumb__last__night.__I__need__to__be__much__more__cautious__going__forward.__Especially__if__there's__some__kind__of__political__intrigue._

Getting up, I finally realized that I had been so shocked by Serena's voice that I'd completely forgotten to clothe myself. Gathering my clothes from the bathroom floor, I noticed that the bullet holes in the mystical shirt seemed to have shrunk. _Useful,__that.__Thanks__again,__Serena._ After waiting a moment in hopeful anticipation of my sire's voice, I determined that this particular phrase was no supernatural summoning spell, and proceeded to dress myself. I noticed some big lumps in my pockets once I'd put my pants on. Deciding to look over what few material possessions I had, I emptied my pockets. My total net worth was pretty grim: 350 dollars and a six-shooter. Making a note to grab a wallet at the downstairs pawn shop on my way to Mercurio's, I stuffed the wad of cash into my left pocket, and jammed the gun into my right one, so I could easily access it with my dominant hand if I needed to. _Not__that__I__can__aim__for__shit,__but__it's__a__bit__more__intimidating__than__a__tire__iron.__Where__is__that__thing,__anyway?_ Looking around, I saw that it had fallen out of the waist of my pants when I'd stripped for the shower. Grabbing it, I noticed some blood stains on the main points of impact, the bend and the end that's supposed to actually remove the tire bolts. With a shrug, I stuffed it back into my waistband. I was now ready to face the world. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I was stopped by a light tapping sound. Listening for a moment, I determined that it was coming from the window. Looking out, I became aware of a light rain that had begun to sprinkle down. _Go__figure.__You__want__to__make__it__rain,__just__wash__your__car__-__or__yourself._ With an amused sigh, I stepped out of my haven and into the world.

As I stepped out of the door in the alley, I was greeted by a strange sight. The rain that was sprinkling down was being blocked by two awnings – one on my building, the other on the building across the alley. The awnings nearly met in the middle: only three or four inches separated them. The rainwater that had collected on each rooftop was pouring down off the awnings, creating a rather interesting effect: it appeared as though there was a beaded curtain of water splashing down the middle of the alley. Directly in front of me, the curtain was impacting the dumpster, causing water to run down an indentation in its side, forming a rivulet that poured past my feet into a nearby drain. The indentation seemed... familiar, somehow. After a moment of observing this curious phenomenon, I realized something even more fascinating was occurring behind the translucent curtain. To the left of the dumpster, closer to the street, a woman dressed in some revealing red outfit (the details were unclear through the curtain) was leaning against the dumpster. However, almost perched over her was a figure that had crawled on top of the dumpster. As I watched with fascination, I saw the figure grab the woman by the hair, pull her head back, and plunge his face onto hers. Taken aback, I wondered whether I was witnessing a Kindred feeding. Driven to sate my curiosity (and more than a little excited – I was still hungry, and experienced a bit of vicarious pleasure from merely thinking about feeding), I crossed the rain-curtain, emerging to the left of the dumpster to view this twisted phenomenon up close. After all, I'd never actually _witnessed_a feeding.

The sight that greeted me was quite a disappointment. Where I expected to find some terrible yet beautiful fellow Kindred in the most exquisite act imaginable, feeding upon that divine river of life, I instead found a disgusting bum with his tongue buried deep in the mouth of a scantily dressed whore. I couldn't help but growl in disappointment. The bum looked up at me with a defensive anger in his eyes. That anger lasted only a moment, however, before turning to raw panic. His face seemed... familiar... like the indentation. He broke from his stolen kiss, and in a fluid motion flew over the dumpster, hiding out of sight on the other side. _Oh__yes...__now__I__remember.__I__made__that__indentation__in__the__dumpster__with__that__bum.__I__guess__he__lives__back__here.__Explains__why__I__terrified__him._

The whore began immediately gasping for air, before frantically spitting onto the street. _At__least__she's__not__throwing__up.__I__guess__that's__a__testament__to__her__ability__to__handle__having__gross__things__in__her__mouth._ I was completely enraptured by her smell, though. A cheap perfume was coated on top, but below that, the smell of her sweat and skin wafted up to my nostrils, exciting my mind, whispering of the liquid delights flowing beneath her oh-so-easy to pierce flesh. After her spitting fit, she looked up at me, wild eyed. I saw a feral suspicion in her eyes, and her body was crouched as though ready to run. After a moment of confusion, I remembered what my reflection had looked like. It then occurred to me that I was also looking at her with a not-too-subtle hunger. Trying my best to look non-threatening, I grinned at her, being careful not to show my teeth. "You okay?"

The fear in her eyes seemed to be immediately washed away by a flood of relief. Straightening up, she began eying me up and down, assessing me. I could immediately see that her calculus had changed: before she was trying to asses whether I was a threat – now she was trying to see whether she could make money off of me. _Well,__I__am__interested__in__a__discreet__meeting__out__of__sight__of__the__public__eye,__but__not__the__kind__you're__thinking__of._ "Yeah. Thanks. I can't believe that fucking bum! Just when you think you've seen everything in this town..." She shook her head in disbelief, droplets of water flying out from the ends of her artificially colored and straightened hair. Reaching into her top, she pulled out a little airplane bottle of vodka, unscrewed the top, and poured a long swig into her mouth. _Well,__I__suppose__that__would__disinfect__your__mouth__and__clear__out__a__nasty__taste._With a mischievous smile, she held out the bottle in offering. While the thought of downing the liquid didn't fill me with the same instinctual revulsion the thought of eating food had, I had no idea whether anything other than blood was safe to consume. Just to be on the safe side, I shook my head in refusal. With a shrug, she jammed the bottle back into whatever pocket was hidden in her bra.

I was doing all I could to avoid salivating, to keep from just leaping at her neck. I was _famished._That blood bag had only provided me with the bare minimum – enough to wake me up and sate my frenzy, but no more. I could see the sweet liquid pulsing through her veins, hear her heart blasting the sweet sustenance through her organic rivers, smell that luscious metallic twang through her skin. _Play__it__cool,__Lucius.__Play__it__cool.__She__just__wants__cash.__No__need__to__draw__attention__to__yourself__by__having__her__scream,__right?_"So... what are you doing back here?"

"Oh... you know..." She was adopting the pose of a "cute girl," looking downward, acting shy, pouting. "...trying to get out of the rain, maybe warm myself up." She looked up at me through obviously fake lashes, doing her best to lay the sexuality on thick. My grin broke into an open smile, though not for the reason she probably thought. I just found the whole act extremely amusing. I no longer felt any sexual attraction, though I did desperately desire to penetrate her with an intensity that was comparable. The whole affair just seemed like a totally unnecessary ritual. _Let's__cut__to__the__chase._

"Yeah? You want to warm up with me? Right here, right now?"

Her whole seductive mask suddenly washed away, revealing a businesslike interior. Hand on hip, she laid the agreement on the table. "Well, you know, honey - my time is pretty valuable. You gonna offer me something for it?"

I snorted at that. _Really,__why__even__bother__pretending__now?_ "How much?"

"Sixty, up front." _Good,__straight__to__business.__I'm__hungry__as__hell._ Reaching into my pocket, I leafed out three twenties and put them into her outstretched hand. She immediately jammed them into her cleavage. With a smile on her face, she asked me, "So, baby, you got a place we can go to?"

Shaking my head, I made the decision not to feed in my haven. I couldn't just feed and leave if I did that, and I really didn't have the time. "How about we do it dirty, right behind the dumpster?"

She did not look happy at that suggestion, but she covered her obvious distaste with a fake excitement that I'm sure she was quite practiced at plastering on her face. "Alright, but only if you clear that freak bum out."

With a smile, I replied, "Not a problem." Walking through the shimmering curtain, I went around the dumpster, only to find the bum sitting in a collection of plastic bags containing all his worldly possessions. I cleared my throat. He froze, staring up at me like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a wolf. In a rush of motion, he scooped up as much of his belongings as he could, muttering himself the entire time, and then rushed off, through the curtain and into the night. His mutterings stuck with me, though. "Monsters, fucking monsters. Crawling up from hell through the sewers to feed on us all. God help us!" Two nights ago I would have dismissed such nonsense as the random ravings of the derelict, but now that I had been granted the knowledge of the supernatural... well, I couldn't help but wonder how much he knew, how much he'd seen. Too bad he was too far gone to make sense of it all. _Too__bad?__That's__the__nature__of__the__masquerade,__isn't__it?__The__only__ones__in__the__know__would__never__be__believed._

These thoughts held my attention for only a moment. The touch of my temporary companion electrified my dead nerves. Gently grabbing my shoulder, she spun me around to face her. "Mmm, thanks for driving that nasty bum away. My hero..." Smirking at her high-school level acting abilities, I pressed myself up against her, pushing her into the corner between the alley and the dumpster. The touch of her skin filled me with an eager excitement. I felt an echo of sexual attraction resonating with my hunger, blending into a single desire. She pulled my face up to hers, and buried her tongue into my mouth. I could feel the blood flowing into her tongue, all but taste the tight collection of vessels in that writhing appendage. Unable to control myself, I bit into her tongue, and tasted the sweet nectar as it spilled out into my mouth. I sensually sucked at the cut, enjoying the way the blood slowly flowed into me, letting me take my time, enjoy it. I decided to try and take this one slow, and enjoy each taste, each memory. Her eyes went wide, but she didn't pull back, and decided to just go with it. Unable to control myself any longer, I pulled back, and put my face up to her neck. Rearing back, I shoved my fangs out of my mouth, before driving them into her quivering artery.

Despite my commitment to go slow, I just couldn't help myself. I sucked hard and deep, pulling a thick stream of blood into myself. I experienced an ecstatic head rush, an intense moment of overwhelming satisfaction and pleasure. Memories flooded into me from my companion, who I now knew to be Sherry. Memory after memory of client after client, sexual encounters I observed from a totally new perspective. It only served to further excite me, further drive me wild. I saw Sherry's tongue roll out her mouth, watched her eyes roll into the back of her head and listened to a wild moan of ecstasy escape her lips. With a renewed desire, I sucked another pint of that sweet, sticky nectar right out of her pulsing artery. Another rush of pleasure overcame me, and another rush of memories, of depraved acts performed in filthy back alleys. It further heightened my pleasure, pushed me further into bliss, before shoving me over the edge and making me swallow another thick load of that hot liquid. I wanted her so bad, I wanted to be her – to take her and be taken, it was all impossible to explain. I had felt what it was like to be on the other side of the sexual exchange, and it was all so insane and enjoyable I just couldn't help myself... The realization that Sherry was just about to die barely managed to force its way through the haze of pleasure. As the pleasure subsided and I prepared to take another, final drink, my primal instincts struggled against my desire to pull out, to spare her. I knew that the next drink would be the ultimate orgasm, would make me truly ecstatic, truly satisfied, and would make Sherry truly dead. _No!__No!__I__can't__just__steal__her__life,__her__memories.__I__can't__just__enjoy__that__pleasure__and__snuff__her__out.__I__said__NO,__GODDAMIT!_But I just couldn't help myself. The desire was too great, the blood was too sweet, and I just wanted it all so _bad_. Even as I screamed internally, I slaveringly sucked hard on her neck, and felt pure liquid pleasure spurt into my mouth and down my throat, causing my mind to all but burst in a cacophony of sensual memories and raw, unadulterated pleasure. For a single perfect moment, I even forgot about my guilt, washed away as it was by the pleasure. And then I was holding Sherry's beautiful corpse in my arms.

With a bitter wrench of my head, I pulled my fangs out of her, her sticky lifeblood still dripping off of them, before stumbling back. My back impacted the other side of the alley, and I stood there, heaving with deep, desperate breaths. I had absolutely no idea how I was going live with myself, how I was going to integrate this new life into myself. Sherry was the first woman I'd ever drunk from, and her life had been almost entirely sexual. Just absorbing the memories of a normal woman would have been enough of a cognitive disorientation, but this was too much. Knowing she was dead, knowing that I had taken perverse pleasure in her life even as I snuffed it out, filled me with a self-hating revulsion that struck to my very soul. And yet the pleasure of the act would not fade, not even in the face of my own horror. The way her experiences had blended into the pleasure of feeding, which was itself resonating with my memories of sex, had formed way too many fucked-up correlations in my brain. And there was this small part of my mind that was whispering terrible thoughts to me, thoughts about how good it felt to suck up a life, how that was the best part of the entire twisted act. _God,__if__I__wasn't__a__horrible,__undead__monster__I'd__probably__need__to__seek__therapy._ I shook my head and pushed myself off from the wall. _I__just__need__to__keep__on__moving._Despite myself, I had to take a look. Peeking through the curtain, I saw that she had fallen down, and was now sitting in the little corner I had shoved her into. Walking over to her, I could still smell her blood. The smell caused me to involuntarily lick my lips, cleaning the last of the blood off them. Wanting one final taste, I leaned down and licked the little droplets that were forming on her neck where I bit her. I choked up even as I swallowed the final drops of that beautiful vixen's life, horrified at what I was. Unable to stand the sight of her lifeless corpse staring blankly up at me, I ran out of the alley and into the streets.

It was raining harder now - the sprinkling had become a shower, and rivers ran in the streets. I didn't mind the rain. Hell, the atmosphere suited me perfectly. Through the haze of the rain I saw the bum scamper into an alley across the street as soon as he spotted me, gibbering to himself. I felt like a monster stalking the dark streets, a terrible abomination that left corpses and madmen in my wake. _God,__she__would__have__been__better__off__if__I'd__just__let__the__bum__have__her__-__just__not__even__intervened.__To__think__that__being__raped__by__a__disgusting__creature__like__him__would__be__better__than__a__brief__encounter__with__me.__Am__I__a__monster?__Am__I__now__destined__to__bring__misery__and__death__to__any__humans__who__make__the__mistake__of__getting__near__me?_ There was one thing that gave me comfort – that Heather girl from last night. Knowing that I was able to save her life, that I could give life as well as take it away, brought me some small respite from the stream of self-hate. One thing was undeniable, though – I was not human, and was completely disconnected from them. I was something else - something more, and also something less. A dark and terrible god, or a remorseful demon. _The__Lord__giveth,__the__Lord__taketh__away,_ I recalled - the old scriptures I'd been drilled in as a child worming their way back into my mind unbidden. _One__of__the__Damned__and__the__Fallen,_Jack echoed into my mind through the mist of memory. On the street corner, a well-dressed man was happily talking to his wife on the phone, giving her directions to come pick him up as he huddled against the rain in an awning, complaining jovially about the weather to her. _How__nice__it__must__be,__to__be__oblivious__to__the__darkness__that__lurks__in__the__shadows__ – __to__have__the__weather__be__your__primary__concern.__Oblivious,__that__is,__until__the__darkness__reaches__out__and__takes__you.__Until__some__terrible__monster__just__decides__to__drain__you__dry__and__leave__your__desiccated__corpse__to__be__found__by__someone._ He looked up at me, and a sudden, wary fear entered his eyes. What did he think he saw when he stared out at me? A lone junkie, standing in the rain, head down, staring up at him from sunken sockets and eyes full of a profound sadness? Did he imagine that I was regretting the choices I'd made in life, and yet was preparing to rob him to get my next fix? _If__only__it__were__that__simple.__If__only__there__were__some__rehab__I__could__go__to__and__cure__this__disease.__But__I__know__what__I__am,__and__I__will__be__this__way__forever.__Go__home.__Go__to__your__loving__wife__and__family,__and__don't__ever__stay__out__after__dark__again._ With that last thought, I slunk off into the night.

I came to the door to Mercurio's apartment complex, standing before me like the gate of some ancient castle. With the push of my hand, I opened the gateway and stepped in. The juxtaposition between the dark shadows outside and the bright luxury within stunned me for a moment, as though I'd stepped into a portal into some new world. In a strange way, it affected a similar change in me. I was still a twisted creature of the night – there could be no doubt about that now; I couldn't lie to myself and pretend to be something I wasn't. These new surroundings helped to demonstrate something to me, though: this place was probably built and maintained by Kindred. I had eased the suffering of one of the residents of this place, at enormous risk to myself. _So__… __what__is__a__Kindred?__A__terrible__demon__which__stalks__and__kills__indiscriminately,__taking__perverse__pleasure__in__the__corpses__and__the__horrified__witnesses__they__leave__behind?__A__former__human__being,__capable__of__refinement__and__decency,__of__rationally__ordering__their__lives__and__the__world__around__them,__who__feels__regret__and__remorse__for__their__crimes?__A__superhuman__demigod,__capable__of__doing__the__impossible,__fixing__problems__that__couldn't__be__fixed__otherwise,__and__saving__those__who__would__otherwise__die?__The__answer,__of__course,__is__all__of__the__above.__Perhaps__being__a__Kindred__simply__increases__one's__range__of__possibility.__As__a__human,__there__was__only__so__much__-__good__or__evil,__chaos__or__order__generating__-__that__one__could__do._ With a relieved sigh, I managed to find my equilibrium once again. I reminded myself of my creed, of my unlife plan, and told myself that I'm happy with what I am. _I'm__not__a__monster.__I__could__become__one,__but__I'm__not__one__yet.__I__just__… __I__just__lost__control.__I__made__a__mistake.__I__regret__it,__and__I__just__need__to__focus__on__not__doing__it__again.__It's__just__because__I'm__new__to__this,__because__I'd__never__experienced__that__kind__of__pleasure__before,__that__Sherry__died.__I'll__be__on__guard__next__time,__that's__all._

"Sir?" The voice of the receptionist interrupted my introspection. Looking up, I saw him staring dispassionately down at me, mild annoyance on his face withered old face, spectacles framing a huge, hooked nose. I smiled up at him.

"Just here to see Mercurio. Nice work cleaning up his blood, by the way." The hallway was absolutely spotless.

With a nod, he acknowledged my complement. "Last door on the right," he directed me, no doubt bored with all the fantastical goings on, having seen it all before, and simply being reduced to an almost mechanical directory/security role. _Well,__he__seems__happy__enough__with__his__place__in__the__world,__I__suppose._ With a nod, I walked to Mercurio's room and entered.

I almost fell on the floor laughing when I saw Mercurio. He'd obviously been to see a doctor. His shirt and jacket were lying in a bloody pile on the stained carpet next to him (which still hadn't been cleaned). His shirtless body was covered in enough bandages to make him look like a mummy. Some kind of ice pack or something was being held to his swollen eye with a generous amount of wrapping. His left leg was in a cast, propped up on a footstool, and his right arm was also in a cast. None of this was what made me laugh, of course. As I said, I wasn't a monster yet. No, it was what he was doing that made me want to crack up. He was lying there, watching TV, sipping from a glass with his free hand. Right as I entered, he finished the contents and performed a particularly impressive maneuver. He set the glass down on a nearby table, on which I could see the morphine I had obtained for him, along with a bottle of whisky. Without taking his eyes off the TV, he grabbed two or three pills, put them in his mouth, poured the whisky straight onto the glass, and then proceeded to chase the pills down with the pure whiskey.

My laughter caused him to look over at me. "Enjoying yourself, Mercurio? Man, you really are one classy guy."

With a sheepish grin, he responded to my jibes, and with a surprising minimal slur to his words. "Hey, not like I can do much else right now. Besides, I think I've earned a little break. Good to see you, Lucius."

Smiling back, I replied, "Good to see you, too. I hope you appreciate what I had to go through to get that. I was just about burned to a crisp on my way back home."

"Don't think I don't know it. You're probably the most generous Kindred I've met. Seriously, I owe you one big time." Looking back, he probably said exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. I had been in serious danger of letting my sense of self collapse, of either falling into a pit of self-loathing or else abandoning moral sensibilities entirely. I had justified my actions to myself _intellectually_, but that's a far cry from actually believing such justifications emotionally. It took Mercurio's friendly words of gratitude to help these concepts actually have meaning to them. "Listen, once I get a chance to get some Vamp blood in me, I'll be able to hook you up with whatever you need in the weaponry department. I have a lot of connections in this city, know a lot of guys in the arms business. You ever have to deal with someone like Dennis again, I can make it real easy for you."

_Wow,__that's__one__hell__of__a__resource__to__have__at__my__disposal._ "Thanks. While I hope I won't need to use your connections, I get a feeling LaCroix has other plans for me. Still, if you want vampire blood, I have no problem giving you some of mine…"

He looked at me with a wide-eyed expression that let me know I'd revealed some kind of ignorance. "If I didn't know you were wet behind the ears, kid, I'd suspect you of trying to pull a fast one on me. Let me lay it down for you: when a mortal drinks vampire blood, they become a ghoul. They get a little vampire power: longer life, no more getting sick, strength, speed, and of course healing – not to mention a wicked nice buzz when you actually get the stuff. But there's also a downside – well, sort of, depending on how you look at it. Basically, you've got to obey whoever you drank from. No way around it – they tell you to do something, you're doing it, whether you like it or not. I've heard rumors it works the same for you types – if you drink from another vamp's blood, you're under their thumb. Of course, it takes a few drinks before you're completely hooked – and make no mistake kid, once a person's had a few tastes, they can't stop. Why would you want to? I mean, I'm sixty. I stop drinking, I start actually looking my age. Why would I want to give up my good looks? But it's not a one way street. If there's one thing I've learned in my years on this Earth, it's that nothing comes without a catch. So anyway, I'm not supposed to drink from anyone but the big man LaCroix himself. So I appreciate the offer, Lucius, I really do – I'd love nothing more than to be able to walk and see outta both eyes again - but I'm afraid I've gotta decline."

I nodded my head, processing this new information. "Hey, I understand – or at least now I do. Thanks for letting me know."

"Hey, no problem. Sorry about lecturing you – I know most Kindred don't take kindly to being told what to do by a human."

"No, seriously, thank you. I've kind of been thrown out here without any training, like – how did Jack put it – like a naked baby in the woods. Seriously, if you know anything about what's going on – Kindred lore, political tidbits, or just random info that might be useful – let me know. I get the feeling I'm going to be in a lot of danger from here on out – like Dennis' place was just the beginning. I, for one, am willing to listen to those I know understand more than me. So, on that note, why don't you tell me what exactly I'm supposed to be doing in Santa Monica?"

"Man, you really are in the dark, aren't you?" It was strange, the look of pity that was coming from his one eye, considering how messed up he looked. "Okay, let's start with the Astrolite. Twice as powerful as TNT. Instant demolition. Be on the other side of the world when you engage the trigger. Apparently, you need to make some place disappear – a warehouse. Looks to be a Sabbat interest." I nodded in understanding. _Killing__Sabbat__ – __dangerous,__to__be__sure,__but__I__have__no__problem__with__it._ "Here's the problem. I don't know where the place is. No one does, except for this one guy – Bertram Tung. I never met him, but I heard a lot about him. He's, ah, one of you types. If there's anyone that knows more about this city than me, it's him. Unfortunately, Tung's hiding out at the moment."

"Ha! Figures. So, what do I do now?"

"Tung's lying low because of Therese Voerman – you know her?" I shook my head. "Anyway, word is Therese and Tung are feuding – I don't know the details. My takes that Tung thinks he's about to get whacked, so he's gone underground until Therese calls it off. If you want to put that warehouse into orbit anytime soon, you're going to have to get Therese to call off the feud."

_So__this__is__the__'extenuating__political__circumstances'__LaCroix__was__talking__about._ "Great. Any advice on how to go forward? Who is this Therese, anyway?"

"She and her sister – Jeanette – run The Asylum. It's this club on the other side of the hospital. Some real freaky customers frequent that place. I try not to do business there. Anyway, Therese is _the_ woman around here. Real power player. Basically, she claims Santa Monica as her Domain. Calls herself Baron of these parts."

I was confused. "Wait, I thought LaCroix was in charge around here."

"Well… sort of. I don't exactly know what's going on, but from what I understand, Therese was around before LaCroix showed up, and made this place hers all on her own. Now, she's pretty friendly towards LaCroix and the Camarilla in general, but she's still holding out, refusing to join until she makes sure she gets what she considers her fair share. You and me are only allowed to be here 'cause of some deal struck between her and LaCroix, from what I understand. Basically, she runs this town. You want blood, you gotta go through her. She runs the only club in town, she controls the blood bank, and she controls the hookers."

I was trying to process two pieces of information at once. "Blood bank? You mean, like I could get blood from there if I wanted? And what about the hookers? Like, uh, how does she make sure Kindred don't just, you know, drain her investments dry?"

"Well, the blood bank's open for everyone. Just head into the alley behind the hospital, head down, and her ghoul who runs the place will hook you up – for a price. Now, as for the hookers, I don't know how she protects her, eh, investment. I do know that if a lot of her girls go missing, she's liable to start asking questions. Just a quick heads up."

"Hey, man! I'd never do that sort of thing – I was just curious. I'm just trying to figure out how this town works, you know?" I responded defensively. Thankfully, Mercurio bought it.

"Sorry, kid. I should have known – I just, well… I've heard stories about Kindred wasting the ladies of the evening, you know? Of course you're better than that." _Great,__now__I__feel__like__a__real__decent__being._

"Okay, so Therese is in charge of Santa Monica. What can you tell me about her? What about her sister – Jeanette, you said her name was?"

Nodding, he burrowed his brow in thought. "Therese…Therese I don't like, but I can respect. Nice looking broad for a dead chick, but, ah, personality like stone. Jeanette's different. I don't know what to make of her. She's a little, you know…" he made a circular motion around his ear with his finger… "in the head. I know Therese is, well, like you, and I would think so's Jeanette, but I hear rumors about her…"

"What kind of rumors?" I needed every piece of information I could gather.

Mercurio looked embarrassed. "Alright… Jeanette. Got a body built for bedrooms. I got close acquaintances say they conquered that territory. But I asked the main man, and… he says you types, you know, can't – or don't – uh, do that kind of thing. Anyway, whatever she is, I hear Jeanette's a wild girl."

I was trying to process all this. I knew for a fact that the urge didn't exist on its own, but it could echo in the desire for blood… there was more to this than Mercurio understood, no doubt. Still, the thought of a Kindred who had come to enjoy that particular combination to the point humans were talking about it worried me. _How__much__control__could__someone__who__let__all__those__desires__blend__together__have?__How__stable__could__they__be?_ Maybe it was just my recent experience, but I was immediately afraid of Jeanette. _Still,__best__to__heed__the__advice__of__those__more__knowledgeable__than__me._ "So, any advice on how to handle this going forward?"

"Yeah – stay the hell away from Jeanette." _Good,__glad__to__hear__my__own__suspicions__confirmed._ "Therese can be a nasty, vindictive psycho – but only if you cross her. Jeanette... it's hard to tell what's going on with her, from what I've heard. One moment she'll be all friendly, the next she's crying, and then she's getting violent. I mean, if you want excitement in your life-"

I cut him off. "I really don't. I really just want to get this taken care of as fast as possible, and not have any more drama in my unlife. So, I need to stay away from Jeanette, and stay on Therese's good side, right?"

"Yeah. I mean, use your own judgment going forward, of course. But if you want my advice, yeah, that's what you should try and do."

Nodding, I decided to get on with my task as soon as possible. "Thanks again, Mercurio. I appreciate your help - I really don't have anyone I can call a friend right now."

"Heh. Yeah, sure, of course. I tell ya, you're the most on-the-level vampire I've ever met. I really hope you come outta this in one piece, kid."

I smiled back at him. "Thanks. You seem to be the only one thinking that way. Anyway, I've got some politics to untangle and a warehouse to blow up, so I've got to go. Don't, uh, go anywhere or anything."

He laughed at that one with me. It was good, knowing there was someone in this world who though I was decent. With a smile and a wave, I turned around and walked out his door, back out into the dark, dreary misery of the streets.


	9. Chapter 8: The Ravings of Janus

**So that last chapter was long, depressing, and full of important plot points. I've tried to make this one short and a bit lighthearted. After all, Jeanette first makes her bubbly appearance in this installment, and she is nothing if not hilarious… provided you aren't the one dealing with her antics. As for flying frog's comment about the two sisters: is Lucius really that transparent? But honestly, who among us would want to deal with that bubbly nutcase? Let's just say I have my own ideas about how this will all turn out. The path is more important than the destination, no?**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The rain was coming down in sheets now. Great waves of water were blasting across the streets at high speed, chasing pedestrians into the shelter of dark alleyways. As for me, I was long past the point where water or wind bothered me especially. _Now__fire,__that's__a__whole__different__story.__I__guess__earth__would__just__be__annoying._ With a groan at myself for that especially terrible joke, I stepped out into the deluge. I found the empty streets quite comforting – it removed the upsetting temptation of anonymous food sources just wandering around for me to fantasize about, and helped me to collect my thoughts. The rain was actually pretty nice – it felt cool, a brief relief from the oppressive heat of LA. It occurred to me that I had originally planned to swing by the pawn shop under my haven, pick up a wallet, maybe get to know the guy who owned the building I lived in. _Who__knows__when__being__on__good__terms__with__your__landlord__could__help?__I__guess__this__is__what__they__call__'networking.'__With__potential__food.__That's__like__… __food__networking._

I couldn't quite understand why I was in the mood for such miserable jokes. Perhaps I was simply desperate to recreate the joviality I felt in Mercurio's apartment, and yet I seemed to be entirely unable to come up with anything humorous on my own. It was as though… _as__though__I__could__reflect__humor__back__being__generated__by__a__human,__but__can't__actually__summon__it__forth__ – __just__a__sad,__pale__reflection__of__what__it__should__be.__Or,__you__know,__maybe__you're__just__not__that__funny,__Captain__Morbid._ I rolled my eyes at myself, only to have them flooded with rainwater. Blinking to try and clear the offending liquid, I proceeded on to the pawn shop that made up the base of my apartment building. I opened the door and stepped into the cluttered, eclectic shop.

I let my eyes lazily wander around the collected piles of junk stacked protectively behind glass screens and metal mesh. I couldn't locate anything that looked interesting or potentially useful - then again, any number of treasures could be buried in all this junk. I wandered to the far end, where there was an extensively armored cage of metal embedded in glass, with a speaker for communication and a tray for exchanging goods and currency. Obviously, this was how I was going to be interacting with Tripp. I looked at a big red button, which had a sticky note next to it reading, "Ring me to get Tripp's attention." Pressing the button caused a loud 'buzz' to resound in the small shop.

"Uh… hold on, hold on!" I heard echoing from a back room. After about a minute, a door behind the barricade opened, and Tripp came stumbling out of it, only managing to prevent himself from faceplanting into the glass cage by holding out his hands and steadying himself on it. He had on a generic surfing t-shirt with some Chinese symbol on it, disheveled brown hair, and looked to be in his mid-twenties. A distinct smell that I couldn't identify followed him out from the back room. "Whoa, man… didn't see that last step there," he explained to me as he pushed himself back up, trying in vain to compose himself. I noticed that his eyes seemed glazed and bloodshot, and he seemed to have trouble focusing. _I__must__have__just__woken__him__up.__Wonder__what__that__smell__is,__though?_ "So, uh, what can I help you with? I'm Tripp, by the way. You know, of Tripp's pawn shop? This is my shop. Pretty cool, right?"

Trying to be amenable, I smiled back. "Nice to meet you, Tripp. I'm Lucius. I just moved in upstairs."

It took a moment for recognition to hit his brain. "Oh… so _you're_ that new dude. Nice to meet you, man. Mercurio already came by and paid the rent, day before yesterday. So you're cool, man. You and him friends?"

I nodded, unsurprised to see that the Camarilla had assigned him this mundane task. "Yeah, we're good buddies. You know him?"

"Yeah. He's more, like, a business partner than a friend, though. So… he's told you about my 'special side business,' right?" He gave me an exaggerated, conspiratorial wink, overly emphasizing those last words.

Deciding to play along – if only to indulge my curiosity – I replied, "Of course he did. That's what I'm here for. What can you hook me up with?"

His eyes went wide. "Whoa, man! I didn't know it was like that. I mean… I actually don't have that much right now. I was just kind of trying to show off. Um… I mean, in terms of, you know…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "…weapons – right now, I only have some bullets and a couple of wicked switchblades."

My own eyes widened, too. I hadn't expected this laid back guy to be into illegally trading weapons. I wondered why Mercurio hadn't mentioned him. _I__guess__this__guy__is__kind__of__small__fry.__Mercurio__seemed__to__be__suggesting__something__way__bigger__than__some__bullets__and__switchblades.__Still,__I'll__take__what__I__can__get__for__now._ Hoisting my gun out of my pocket, I laid it down on the counter. "You got bullets for this model?"

"Whoa, man! Um, yeah, I think. That's a .38? Yeah, I got bullets for that."

I decided then and there to make some additional purchases. _After__all,__who__knows__what__kind__of__dangers__I__could__be__wading__into?__I__know__for__a__fact__that__I'm__going__to__have__to__take__on__the__Sabbat__before__all__is__said__and__done.__Can't__hurt__to__be__a__little__more__armed._"Get me 24 of those, a wallet, and let me see your blades."

"Damn, man. You're, uh, not gonna end up on the news or anything, right? 'Cause I really don't like having to deal with the fuzz, man."

Trying to reassure him, I smiled. "Hey , this is just for home defense. Crazy shit going on in this town, right?"

Relaxing once again, that same big grin he'd been wearing on his face up until the discussion turned to weaponry returned. "Yeah, tell me about it. Why you think I got all my inventory behind metal? Anyway, gimme a sec, I just gotta find this stuff. It's around here… somewhere. I just can't remember where…" He proceeded to wander around behind the chain-link, occasionally rummaging around in the various piles of junk. After a minute or two, he returned to the window and deposited the requested items into his side of the tray. I looked over, seeing a decent brown leather wallet, a pile of bullets, and a few nasty blades of illegal length. "So, yeah, here's what I got. The knives are pretty wicked, right?" I nodded, wondering to myself how useful they'd be against other Kindred. _Well,__I__know__blood__loss__would__have__to__be__a__serious__problem,__so__getting__cut__up__can't__be__good__for__Kindred__health._

I pointed at the longest, meanest looking one. It had nasty, serrated edges. "How about that?"

"Oh, okay. That one isn't actually a switchblade - just, like, a really long Rambo knife. It's wicked nasty, bro. Comes with a nice sheath and loop to keep on your jeans. You sure you want that?" I nodded. "Okay. For all this, I'd say it's about two-fifty." With a smile, I silently thanked Mercurio for his unwitting financial contribution to the cause of my survival as I placed the required cash in the tray. With a turn, the cash was on his side of the divide, the items on mine. I put my remaining finances into their new repository, stuffed the bullets in my pocket next to the gun, and tied the sheath loop around the belt buckle of my jeans before jamming the sheathed knife inside the waistband.

For the first time since I'd had a stake jammed in my chest, I felt safe and secure, at least to some small degree. "Thanks. If I need anything else, I'll know where to come. I'll be seeing you, Tripp."

"Not if I see you first. Heh. Heh heh heh. Sorry, man. Just joking. See ya." He kept chuckling to himself as he wandered into the back room again. I just smiled at the strange guy. _Easily__amused,__isn't__he?__Heck,__he'd__probably__even__laugh__at__my__jokes.__Well,__good__to__know__he's__a__friendly__guy,__if__a__bit__scatterbrained.__The__important__thing__is,__he's__oblivious__enough__to__believe__whatever__BS__I__might__have__to__feed__him,__is__a__great__source__of__whatever__I__might__need,__and__is__definitely__not__going__to__be__a__problem__or__a__threat._ I walked out of his shop, glad to know I'd found yet another safe port in this city, before walking back out into the storm.

Just my luck: the rain was blowing in at such an angle that it blasted me right in the face. I wasn't bothered by being wet and didn't need to breathe, but that didn't make the sensation any less unpleasant. Turning my head back towards the shop, I proceeded to walk to down the street, in the direction of The Asylum. I had only taken a few steps, however, before the direction my head was facing forced me to stop and stare. There, in the alley next to the pawn shop, the hobo I had terrified earlier was crouched low on the far side of the dumpster, staring at something out of sight. I knew what he was staring at. I knew what was occupying the space that had been his home until recently. I felt a lump rise up in my throat, felt my stomach turn itself over, as though Sherry's blood was trying to escape from my body and return to its original owner.

The bum slowly rose, shaking visibly, then turned and began to bolt out of the alley. He stopped when he was on the verge of reaching the street, however, and stared in horror at me. He raised one hand to his mouth, while raising the other to point, unsteadily, directly at me. I backed away, haunted by his silent accusation. I was being assaulted by conflicting desires. On the one hand, I wanted to go over to him, beg his forgiveness - explain that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't mean it, it was just an honest mistake that could have happened to anyone. But those excuses sounded hollow even to my ears, and I knew they wouldn't be accepted. I was also filled with the urge to run up to him and rip his throat out to silence the guilt he was bringing up in me. Unable to bear the conflict raging within, or continue to stare down my accuser, I turned and fled from what I had done, for the third time since I had become Kindred.

I stumbled blindly through the roiling sea of rain, buffeted by waves being whipped back and forth by tropical winds, just as my mind was being buffeted by feelings of guilt and desire, fear and desperate hope. I finally made my way to a clear place, both in my mind and in physical fact. I had entered the awning next to the hospital, which served as a visual reminder of the good I'd done and the peace I'd made with the act previously. _Still,__probably__not__a__good__idea__to__go__back__inside.__I've__already__engaged__in__fraud,__theft__and__assault__there.__I__doubt__they'd__take__too__kindly__to__me__paying__them__a__second__visit._ _Still,__what__did__Mercurio__say__about__the__blood__bank?__Around__back,__in__the__alley._ Pushing my way through the small crowd of pedestrians that was trying to wait out the storm, I made it into the alley, only to be greeted by a large looming sign reading "The Asylum" on the building at the far end. _Good.__So__this__is__on__the__way__to__my__final__destination._

Wandering into the narrow passageway, I saw that there was a light blasting down directly above a sign reading "Blood Bank," which was itself situated directly above a door on the side of the hospital. I pulled the door open, cautiously peering inside. To my relief, it looked like I was looking at an unused portion of the building, or at least rarely frequented. Another sign on the wall indicated that the bank was located downward, and I descended.

The hallways in this basement were stark and bare. Unpleasant fluorescent light bounced off medical-white walls in ways that would make the most air-headed optimist feel dragged down. I saw a rectangular hole in the wall up ahead, a hole filled with the same metal mesh embedded in glass that had protected Tripp. I wandered up to the window, only to have the occupant of the office on the other side stare out at me with piercing blue eyes that scintillated with a perverse glee whose origin I could only guess at. He proceeded to give me an uncalled-for lecture. "You up next for the needle, hmm? Your donation could save a life, you know. Oh, but – isn't it a little late for altruism? I don't think you're here to give blood at all. I don't buy it, Jack. I bet you're here to _take_ blood, am I right?"

I could immediately sense that there was something different about him, and that combined with the info Mercurio had given me confirmed that this was the ghoul I was supposed to be dealing with. _Guy__is__definitely__weird__ – __then__again,__I__imagine__running__an__illicit__blood__store__out__of__the__basement__of__the__hospital__and__selling__product__to__blood__sucking__cannibals__all__day__would__make__anyone__become__a__little__off._ "This is the blood bank, right? Because I'm trying to make a withdrawal."

The red-haired nurse began laughing hysterically. I looked at him askance, not sure how to react to this. _It__wasn't__that__funny__…_ Finally, his laughter subsided, and he looked me up and down while licking his lips, which made me quite uncomfortable, despite the fact that I knew I could easily overpower him. "Right down to business. None of this 'pretend I don't drink blood' shit. Very refreshing to find a decisive customer. So, what'll it be?"

"Uh…" I was still taken aback by this weirdo. "…blood?"

That just sent him off into another spasm of laughter. "Oh, wonderful! So we've got a comedian here! Excellent!" He rested his chin on one hand and stared up at me with large eyes that unnervingly reminded me of a swooning teenage girl. "Because it gets so very _dull_ down here! You know…" He leaned in conspiratorially. "…sometimes, when I'm, heh, taking a deposit, I'll intentionally miss with the needle?" A nasty grin started to spread across his face. "I'll jam it right through the vein. Just so I can watch the blood spurt everywhere – just to generate a bit of excitement."

_Okaaaaay..._ I was doing the best I could to keep a smile on my face. It was cracking at the edges. "Um, OK. Neat. So, how much for the blood?"

His face contorted itself into a pout. "Aw, what's the matter? Not interested in watching that? And here I thought we could be friends." _You're__probably__the__last__person__on__this__Earth__I__want__to__get__to__know__any__better,__buddy._ "Oh well, best not to mix business and pleasure. One-eighty a bag."

_Well,__shit._"I don't have that much. How about cutting me a deal? You know, for a... friend?"

Suddenly he drew back, viewing me askance, radiating an intense suspicion. "I see what your game is. You try and make friends, then use me? How much do you have, life drinker?"

Rummaging through my wallet, I found two twenties, and knew immediately that it wasn't enough. Honestly, I'd just had enough of this guy. "You know what? I'll come back later."

Narrowing his eyes, he hit me with a paranoid stare. "Don't think I'm not on to your game. I'll be watching you, comedian."

I just backed away, turned around, and walked right out the door. I couldn't even begin to figure out what this guy's problem was. _I'm__a__chemist,__not__a__doctor,__Jim.__Seriously,__though,__this__guy__needs__to__see__a__shrink._ I wandered out into the alley and headed in the direction of the club that the Baron of Santa Monica called her base of operations.

I reached the streets, finding myself on the other side of the parking garage. Wandering around to the front of the club, I found myself staring up at an old building, designed in the art deco style, that had most definitely once been a location of some prominence. Indeed, were it not for the large number of posters plastered around the first floor of the building, the music that was pumping out the edifice, and the artistically styled club name looming down from the third floor, I would be inclined to think that I was looking at an art museum or old municipal building rather than a nightclub. _I__have__to__admit,__my__curiosity__is__piqued.__Let's__investigate__the__headquarters__of__the__Kindred__who__claims__to__run__this__madhouse__named__Santa__Monica._

I walked in. There was a bouncer located in an alcove right inside the door, checking IDs. He was intimidating and muscular, wearing a perpetual scowl, but he simply eyed me once and let me through. _Thank__goodness__I__was__embraced__at__a__time__in__my__life__when__I__already__looked__older.__My__lack__of__ID__really__has__me__on__edge._ I could remember the first time I was no longer carded for alcohol – it had nearly driven me crazy. I'd still been sensitive about my age then – I'd always looked older than I was, and my lack of relationship had me especially sensitive about my appearance. I remember dying my hair, even trying makeup to make myself younger. That had lasted about a week before I just accepted it and moved on with my life. _Funny,__to__think__that__my__old__appearance__should__be__such__a__lifesaver__during__this__aspect__of__my__existence._

I was assaulted by two things once I entered the club proper: the music and the crowd. The music was at once melancholy and forceful, shoving its morbidity in your face. The crowd was... interesting. They wore an eclectic yet thematically consistent mix of outfits. Bondage-esqe clothing, often with either collars or top hats. Outfits reminiscent of the late 80s party scene. Full body latex outfits with checkered patterns. Men in sailor suits with wings attached. Feathered leotards. Plenty of animal ears and tails, mostly of the feline and rabbit variety. And of course, plenty of black fishnet. Insane personifications of warped fantasies. I had only experienced this sort of thing during my late college years, during my descent into depression-fueled alcoholism and madness. It reminded me of a movie that had come out a few months ago... _Party__Monster_, I think. The strangest thing about the whole bizarre pageant, however, was its intensity. They danced with an energetic desperation that was not the wild revelry of the manic and intoxicated. It was the desperate flailing of those completely, absolutely in need of some impossible connection to another being capable of understanding them. I knew this, because around the age of 22 I had been one of these types. The brooding loner in the corner. The twitchy spastic in the absurd clothing – because you weren't trying to fit in. You were trying to drive away the crowd, and find your special match. Night after night, you sought after the impossible - because by the time you'd reached that point, you couldn't care less how much you were humiliating yourself. How on Earth an entire club had been filled up with such a collection of desperate miserables was beyond me. One thing was clear, though. _If__I'd__wandered__into__a__place__like__this__back__then,__I__doubt__I__would__have__wandered__out._

I slowly made my way through the crowd, jostled back and forth by gyrating bodies and conflicting impulses of antisocial flight and raw hunger. I went towards the one point of stability in the sea of humanity: the bar. The tattoo-decorated bartender was looking around with wary eyes and a scowl on his face. He reminded me or a great grizzly bear, restlessly prowling around its lair, trying to scare off intruders. I sat down at the bar next to the only other occupant of the stools, trying to get some kind of bearings.

Once again, Serena's lessons came back to me, comforting me, providing guidance. I'd spent time with her going to various social settings, from upscale jazz locales to the filthy nightclubs packed with unwashed masses. Her explanation for our outings, like all of her explanations, contained another valuable lesson. "_Listen,__Luke.__It's__clear__to__me__that__you__have__a__strong__aversion__to__social__situations.__That's__understandable.__I__consider__myself__something__of__an__introvert.__There__is__a__distinct__difference,__however,__between__choosing_ _to__not__engage__socially,__and__being__unable_ _to.__If__you__truly__wish__to__involve__yourself__in__my__world__and__learn__the__secrets__you__desire__to__comprehend,__you__will__have__to__develop__certain__non-academic__skills.__To__this__end,__you__will__no__doubt__find__it__necessary__to__navigate__among__social__circles,__conduct__yourself__with__grace__ – __especially__when__lying__ – __and__navigate__the__intrigues__of__subtle__liars.__You__will__also__find__it__necessary__to...__tolerate__large__crowds.__You__will__have__to__hold__yourself__in__a__poise__situated__betwixt__revulsion__and__physical__attraction.__My__ultimate__goal__is__that__when__these__exercises__are__complete,__you__should__only__avoid__social__interactions__out__of__preference,__rather__than__fear._" I thought over her words in a new light, coming to realize that the ability to maintain oneself among large numbers of people while hungry was incredibly important. _Explains__now__why__she__would__do__such__out__of__character__things__as__get__me__incredibly__sexually__excited,__then__drag__me__out__to__a__crowded__sex__club__and__tell__me__to__avoid__staring__overlong__or__touching__anyone.__She__was__trying__to__help__me__develop__self__control._I repeated her calming exercises, breathing slowly, despite the fact it was now unnecessary – it's funny how comforting that action is. I saw myself in my mind's eye as a point of light, and I surrounded that light with a bubble of void. All emotions, all external stimuli were located outside the void. I could observe them, respond to them, and they could make major dents in the bubble, but they would not touch my ego, my essence, safely confined within. Returning to calm once again, I suddenly became aware that the bartender was trying to get my attention.

"What you trying to get?" His eyes were equal parts dead, jaded, wary, and wild.

"Um... just water, thanks." He scowled in disappointment. "Also, I was wondering if maybe you could get me some information." His eyes registered only the vaguest glimmer of interest. "I'm trying to meet with Therese Voerman. From what I hear, she owns this club. How do I go about meeting her?"

The man just smirked at me. "You don't. Either she invites you upstairs to meet her, or you never see her. Here's your water. Now, stop wasting my fucking time." With that dismissal, he turned to another customer and proceeded to handle the endless stream of drinks that needed to be dispensed in all directions.

With a disappointed sigh, I stared at my glass of water, trying to figure out how to move forward. My contemplation lasted for only a moment, though, before being interrupted by the person sitting next to me. "Bummer, man. Therese is a hard chick to meet up with."

I looked up at the guy next to me, who had a leather jacket on over a plain t-shirt. I noticed a small white patch on the side of the jacket: a smiley face with fangs. That sent warning signals off in my mind. Of course, considering how most of the patrons of this place dressed, it wasn't completely unusual, but still... I took a moment to turn my Auspex on just a little – just enough to confirm a gut feeling I had that this guy was a little different from the other patrons. It was all I could do to avoid being overwhelmed by the blasting music, the brightly colored lights, and the smell of the press of bodies. I blanched, eyes going wide, but I'd confirmed what I needed to know – this guy was a ghoul.

Just as I was about to ask him about his own supernatural status, he threw the question at me directly. "You – you're a vampire, aren't you?" I nodded, deciding that this guy must be 'of the blood,' and so I wasn't in danger of violating the Masquerade. He broke out in a huge grin, and all but blasted his pleasure at me. "Hell yeah! I knew it! I knew you were. I could just tell. Damn, it was like, I could just sense you. The name's Knox Harrington. Nice to meet you."

The guy was like a hyperactive kid, but at that moment he seemed pretty tolerable compared to the rest of the club. "I'm Lucius. Nice to meet you, too. So, Knox, I'm assuming you're a ghoul. Who do you work for? Therese?"

"Ha! No way. Thank goodness, too. I've heard she can be a little, you know." He grimaced and made a slicing motion across his throat with his finger.

I was trying to figure out a way I could use this guy to reach Therese. "Oh, okay. So what are you dong around here? Why are you trying to get to Therese?"

"Well..." He leaned in conspiratorially. "... I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I'm on a 'secret mission' for my master. He needs me to meet with her, but no one will let me up. So..." He gestured to the drink in front of him and the bar in general, shrugging in impotent resignation.

I returned the shrug. "Great. So looks like we're both stuck at the bar. Any clue on how to get up?"

He looked over at me with a sudden renewed hope in his eyes. "Yeah, actually. I heard that the only way to get up is to get Jeanette to take you up with her." His big grin got even bigger. "I was thinking, 'All right! Like, could this mission get any cooler?' But, even though I tried all my best moves, I couldn't get her to pay attention to me." He seemed crestfallen. "But hey! Maybe you'll have more luck than me. I mean, you're a vampire. She's, like, got to pay attention to you, right? Anyway, she's over on the dance floor, up on the stage, dancing where everyone can see. You can't miss her – she's the center of attention."

He pointed to our right. I saw a young woman, either in her early twenties or late teens, dressed in a mockery of a schoolgirl uniform that had been all the rage in the late 80s/early 90s. She was sporting knee-high socks, 3-inch pumps, a tiny tied-off t-shirt that seemed to exist solely to show off her ample cleavage, and a plaid skirt that barely covered her ass. Her set of pigtails completed the stereotypical look. She was grinding back and forth like the girls from the "Smells Like Teen Spirit" music video, moving her hips in such a way as to give the crowd numerous flashes of her panties. _Yeah,__she__wants__to__be__the__center__of__attention,__alright._With a sigh, I got up. "Thanks, Knox. I'll see you around." I left before the guy could ask me a favor, like delivering a message to Therese.

I pushed my way through the crowd, maintaining my bubble of calm. I pushed up to the stage, where the crowd had gathered most densely, danced the most desperately. Finally reaching the edge of the wooden platform, I contemplated a way of getting Jeanette to come down. Thankfully, she decided to look down in my direction, eyes widening at the sight of me, before a smile crept across her face that I found worrisome. With a gesture of her finger she summoned me up on the stage. Hesitant at first, I figured this was necessary to get on her good side, which I needed to do exactly long enough to get a chance to speak with Therese. I climbed up on the stage.

Turning around to face me, Jeanette continued to dance. Her eyes were fixated on me, eyes surrounded by splayed black makeup that contrasted with her pale complexion, pouting at me with blood-red lips done up like a doll's. I did my best to dance with her, but that gaze had pierced right through my bubble and was blasting into me. I knew what those eyes conveyed. I had seen it before, though the last time the eyes hadn't been surrounded by such a dramatic splay of black eye makeup. Those eyes were dangerous and bored. Those eyes were looking for someone to eat up and throw away, somebody to fill a hole in their lives that they couldn't fill themselves, and God help you if you didn't prove to be a perfect match. They were the eyes Jenny had looked at me with. Back when I was a mess at the end of college. She'd promised a way out, a possible heaven of pleasure. Instead, she dragged me down into a hell of her own making, taking me on an emotional roller-coaster that had left my life on the verge of collapse. I had only escaped from that death-trap and graduated by the skin of my teeth. To say that I was wary of Jeanette at that moment would not have begun to sum up my feelings. I was about as interested in getting to know her as a man who'd lost a leg to an underground explosion is interested in getting to know a patch of ground labeled "minefield."

After a minute of dancing, Jeanette decided to speak to me. Her voice was low and soft, and would have been inaudible if not for my Kindred senses. "What do we have here? Another scrumptious young plaything straight out of life and into my club? You smell new, little boy, like fabric softener on freshly mowed Astroturf. I'm not frightening you, am I , duckling?"

_Frightening?__No.__Inducing__caution?__Hell__yes.__Got__to__navigate__this__carefully._ "I'm not scared, no. But I am quite intrigued." I did my best to offer a false friendly smile.

I could see I had succeeded in garnering her interest. "I can tell you and I are going to get along like fire hoses." I raised an eyebrow, trying to pretend to be intrigued by her bait. She leaned in, whispering seductively, "When we get turned on, there's bound to flames."

I forced out a laugh at her nonsensical joke. I needed to herd this cat along and figure out how to get away from her as quickly as possible. _She__likes__being__the__center__of__attention.__Act__like__you__don't__know__who__she__is__ – __like__you__just__came__here__because__she's__oh-so-very__fascinating._ "I knew wandering up to that incredible figure dancing on the stage was a good idea. Who are you?"

The glint in her eye told me I'd played this hand successfully. "I'm the finger down your spine when all the lights are out. I'm the name on all the men's room walls. When I pout, the whole world tries to make me smile. And everyone wants to know: who... is... that... girl?" She beamed at me, smile and manic energy radiating from her eyes. I could tell she was loving every moment of this introduction. "I... am... Jeanette! And this bit of chaos crammed into a certifiable giggle is my club." _Funny,__I__thought__it__belonged__to__Therese._ "Oh, I'd just love to give you funny feelings all night, but I really must trouble with some business. We'll reunite sweet and soon, I promise."

With that, she jumped down off the stage. She walked effortlessly across the dance flood, the crowd parting for her in reverential fashion. _Oh__no,__I'm__not__letting__you__get__away.__Not__until__I__get__what__I__need__from__you._ Hopping down, I chased after her, though the crowd was less willing to make my passage easy. I finally caught up to her right as she was about to enter an elevator. I grabbed her arm. She spun her head to face me, feigning anger at my rudeness. I saw right through it, though. She was ecstatic that I had chased her down. "Wait! If you're Jeanette, then I need to talk to you.

Yet again, she bloomed under the attention I was pouring on her. "Ooh! I see my reputation precedes me. How can I put a smile on that face, duckling?"

_Time__to__lay__it__out__on__the__table._ "Well, I need to get in touch with Tung. Bertram Tung? I heard you might be able to help me with that. Not to say that I wouldn't rather hang out with you, of course…" The thought of spending any time with her sent shivers down my spine.

"Ahhh… you're looking for my grotesque lover, then? If it was up to me, I'd take you by the hand, lead you straight to him, and the three of us could have all kinds of fun together. Unfortunately…" Her lips pushed themselves out into an exaggerated pout. "…my uptight prude of a sister isn't exactly too fond of him right now. Although…" Her eyes glinted with an evil light. "Maybe you could talk to her. She certainly won't listen to little old me. Hmph. She's just jealous of my good looks and the fact that I'm _way_ more popular than her. I'll tell you what." She grabbed my hand, forcing me to use every ounce of self-control to keep from jerking it back. "Why don't you come with me, and I'll set up a little one-on-one between you two. Don't think you'll get the same warm, happy feelings you would from a one-on-one with little old me, though. She's a cold bitch who's _still_ a virgin after… how long has it been? 80 years, or something like that. Point is, she's not very likable. But poor little you will just have to put up with nasty old her for a minute, I suppose. If you get my Tung back to me, I promise I'll use my tongue to make your life much, much more happy."

With a relieved sigh, I watched her enter a code into the pad next to the elevator, opening up the door. _It__worked.__Now__I__can__finally__be__rid__of__this__maniac._ My relief lasted until we were in the elevator. As the doors were closing, she pushed me up against the walls, pressing herself into me and covering my mouth with hers. I involuntarily froze up. _This__is__exactly__how__Jenny__pulled__me__in,__too.__Fuck__this.__Fuck__this__crazy__bitch.__I'm__done__with__her._ I was about to push her off me when the doors opened behind us and Jeanette saw fit to disentangle herself from me. With a smile, she chided me, "My my, little duckling, but you _are_ new. No need to be nervous – though I'm sure this is the first time you've been with a girl like me." _Don't__flatter__yourself,__wombats-for-brains.__I've__played__this__game__before,__and__the__only__way__to__win__is__to__not__play._

She turned around and sauntered up to the only door in the little alcove the elevator emptied into. "Stay here, duckling," she instructed, holding up a finger. With that, she opened the door and slipped in, locking it with a 'click' behind her. Looking around, bored, I saw a small ring lying on the floor. _Jeanette__must__have__dropped__it._ Reaching down, I picked the trinket up, examining it. There was an excessively feminine ruby heart jewel in the ring. I looked it over. _Real__gold__and__an__actual__ruby.__That's__classier__than__I__expected._ Turning it over, however, I noticed that there were words embedded in the gold band. "For dearest Therese." _Hmm.__Interesting.__Not__what__I__expected,__given__what__I__know__of__her.__Still,__I__swear__I__saw__Jeanette__drop__that.__Ah,__well.__I'll__give__it__to__Therese__as__a__goodwill__gesture._

Speaking of which, I could hear Therese and Jeanette arguing from the other side of the door. Unable to contain my curiosity, I put my ear up to it. Jeanette was verbally abusing her sister. "Your city? Last time I looked it was called Santa Monica, not Stuck-Up-Bitch." _Oh,__real__clever,__Jeanette.__Last__I__checked,__it's__not__named__Crazy-Slut,__either._

Apparently, though, it got to her sister, who responded with vitriol. "So vulgar! I can't even look at you sometimes! You Jezebel!"

"Oh _please_, Therese. You really do paint a flattering portrait of me with your turn of the century barbs. I always assumed you could do nothing but look down on me."

"Just the sight of you! The sight of that wicked, tainted pout, concealing that diseased mind! Sin! You have no shame!" While I sympathized with Therese, I couldn't help but laugh at an undead monster screaming about sin. I could only hypothesize what my old Sunday school teacher would have to say about that particular theological dilemma.

In an effort to make the theological dilemma even more tricky, Jeanette responded with a Bible quote, of all things, or rather a mis-quote. "Let she who is without sin cast the fierce tone."

"Go ahead and mock me. You pull your pranks, make fun of my ways. It suits you. You're just one big joke."

"Don't you call me that!"

"Should I start calling a duck a pig, as well?"

"I'm your sister! How can you treat me like this?" With that, Jeanette ran off, crying and slamming a door. _Looks__like__Therese__got__to__her._

Therese apparently couldn't resist throwing out one more barb. "That's it, Jeanette. Run away from the truth. I'll take care of everything, as always." I sat there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do. I hadn't heard Jeanette even mention me, so I wasn't sure if I was expected. Still, now was the best time to go in – Jeanette was gone (thank God), and I'd just found out that Therese disliked her sister almost as much as I did, if not more. Perfect time to do some brown-nosing and get this issue with Tung resolved. Taking a deep breath and composing myself, I raised my fist and knocked on the door.

The silence stretched on for about half a minute. I was about to raise my hand to knock again when I heard a distinct click come from the door, followed by footsteps. I still wasn't sure what to do, so I knocked again. "Come in." Therese's voice echoed from within the room. I reached out, turned the handle, and entered the room.

The room was a remarkably pleasant shade of red. _Funny,__I__never__liked__that__color__before.__Now__it__has__a__wonderful__calming__effect__on__my__nerves._ The place was an exceptionally well-kept office, with a computer desk at the far end on top of an ornate rug. A Kindred – whom I assumed to be Therese – was standing next to the desk, dressed in a very sharp grey business suit, blonde hair done up in a neat bun, eyes framed by large glasses. I immediately liked her. _What__can__I__say?__I've__always__been__a__sucker__for__women__with__that__librarian__look.__Heck,__that's__how__Serena__managed__to__seduce__me._ I would have assumed that this room was just an office, if not for the gaudy, pink, heart shaped bed stuffed into a corner, which a dressing screen was obviously trying to conceal. _Jeanette's__addition__to__this__place,__no__doubt._ "Please, come in." I walked up to Therese, carefully looking around to see where Jeanette may have run off to. I saw a door over by the bed and assumed that was where the walking soul-trap had scurried off to. I looked at Therese, offering her a genuinely warm smile. As I got close, I was amazed to see how similar the two sister's faces were, despite the extreme differences in dress and mannerism. Of course, Therese had adopted a much lower-key makeup scheme, though she had extensively darkened her face and applied very unconventional black lipstick. _Still,__I__suppose__working__around__the__pale__complexion__of__a__corpse__must__be__difficult.__Especially__in__this__day__and__age,__when__our__current__ideal__of__beauty__requires__a__woman__to__spend__enough__time__in__a__tanning__booth__to__give__herself__skin__cancer.__It__matches__the__grey__of__the__suit._

"I do apologize for my sister's crassness if it made you uncomfortable. She's unabashedly scandalous – but in the club business, I suppose that kind of personality is a necessary evil." I found her mannerism both refreshing and entertaining. Certainly, Jeanette did have a point about her turn of the century barbs and general outdated mannerism – but at the same time, I'd much rather deal with an anachronism than a soul-sucking nutcase. _Besides,__how__old__did__Jeanette__say__Therese__was?__80__years?__Mind-blowing.__And__she__looks__younger__than__me,__too._

"I won't lie, she did manage to make me uncomfortable, yes. Though I'd call her more annoying than anything else." That one brought a slight smile to Therese's face, though she didn't broadcast her emotions at full volume the way Jeanette had. "Therese Voerman, I assume?" I politely extended my hand for a handshake, a courtesy which Therese returned. "My name is Lucius."

"Yes, I am Therese Voerman, proprietor of this club, and the only person in this city whose good side it's in your interests to stay on, Lucius."

"So I've heard. You are the… Baron, I believe the title is?"

"Yes, that's correct. I am the Baron of Santa Monica."

"Well, Therese, let me take this opportunity to formally…" _How__did__that__tradition__go__again?__Damn__it,__I__should__have__listened__to__Serena__and__memorized__them.__Present__yourself__to__the__master__of__a__domain.__Fifth__Tradition._ "…present myself to you, for your approval for me to operate in your domain, as the Fifth Tradition dictates."

She looked at me in surprise. "You're aware of the Traditions, then? Very refreshing – I can't tell you how many fledglings run around these days, either unaware or unconcerned with such niceties. Still… I was under the impression that you were rather… too young to understand such things."

It was strange, but for some reason I felt a primal fear of lying to her – like she could somehow just _know_ if I wasn't completely honest with her. _Entirely__possible__ – __I__don't__know__what__is__and__isn't__possible__for__Kindred.__Still,__I'd__rather__she__didn't__know__how__wet__behind__the__ears__I__am.__And__I'd__rather__not__let__anyone__know__about__Serena's__ghost.__How__to__phrase__this__…_ "Well, I am quite young, but I wasn't embraced yesterday. Serena, my sire, also saw to it that I received some education before my embrace." _Technically__true__… __I__was__embraced__the__night__before__yesterday._

"Ah. I see. I was under the mistaken impression that you were embraced the same night that you appeared at the theater."

A sudden click of recognition hit me. _I__knew__I'd__seen__her__before._ "Ah yes, I remember seeing you there. I thought you looked familiar."

"Mmm, yes. A shame about your sire, though I suppose such is the price of violating the edicts of the Camarilla. So, what brings you to my domain?"

"The Camarilla, as a matter of fact. I'm here on business for them. I'm required to eliminate a Sabbat warehouse in Santa Monica."

She raised her eyebrow at that. "I had heard rumors that such a Sabbat interest was hidden in my domain. I wasn't aware its existence had been confirmed. Where is it located, exactly?"

"Well, that's the problem. There's only one individual who knows: Bertram Tung. And I heard that you've had him exiled."

A scowl made its way across her face. "Tung's exile is self-imposed, I assure you. But then, what reason would I have not to hate that loathsome Nosferatu scoundrel? Bloody Nosferatu. They're so… unclean." _Great.__One__more__thing__I__don't__understand.__Well,__doesn't__really__matter__right__now.__What's__the__source__of__this__mess?_

"What exactly did he do to earn your ire?"

"He meddles in my affairs. He's a bad influence on my sister – and she on him. If you were in my place, would you let him compromise your authority?" I shook my head. "You most certainly would not. I'd quite like it if I never heard that name again. Do you realize how his subterfuge makes me look to the Camarilla?" I sighed. _Of__course__it__wouldn't__be__easy.__So__how__do__I__keep__talking__about__this__guy__without__pissing__her__off?__Still__… __she's__concerned__with__how__she__looks__to__the__Camarilla__…_

"Look, I don't doubt that he's a despicable, unclean worm. Unfortunately, I have a task that's been assigned to me. I really don't have a choice in the matter. Is there anything I can do for you that will get you to call off the feud? Both myself and the Camarilla would be greatly appreciative."

I could see the gears turning in her head. _I__knew__it__was__good__to__mention__the__Camarilla__being__grateful._"Tung and his co-conspirator's actions have ruined my chance at a partnership in a crucial piece of property. I do have several other promising ventures, and one in particular has been – to say the least – an ordeal."

I smiled. _Now__we're__getting__somewhere._"How can I be of assistance, Baron Voerman?" _Ooh__yes,__look__at__that__smile.__As__Serena__used__to__say:__flattery__will__get__you__everywhere__ – __provided__you__don't__lay__it__on__too__thick._

"I'd be willing to put the word out that my grievances with Tung have been swept under the rug. In return, you'll have to help me remove a particularly burdensome spirit from a property I'm looking to invest in."

I did a double-take at that. "Spirit?" I asked her incredulously.

"Hmm. Apparently your Sire's education was incomplete. Allow me to break you in, then – yes, ghosts exist. Werewolves, mummies – and I'd expect a whole lot of other things I've never seen – share the night with us."

My mind was once again undergoing intellectual vertigo. _So__much__to__learn.__So__much__to__understand.__I__love__it.__So__she__wants__me__to__deal__with__this__spirit?__Good.__This__is__a__perfect__chance__to__study__the__phenomenon.__And__a__straightforward__business__deal__on__top__of__it?__I'm__liking__Therese__more__and__more._ "So, how exactly should I go about dealing with this spirit for you?"

"Rumor is that a personal item of a ghost may be used to draw it out or excise it from its haunt. While I don't put a lot of stock in hearsay, it's my last option. So I want you to go to the Ocean House Hotel find an item of the spirit, and bring it back."

_Sounds__straightforward__enough._ "Any idea what kind of item I'm looking for?"

She shook her head. "None. Use your best judgment."

I nodded. "And if I successfully retrieve this item, you'll call off the feud? I have your word?"

"Oh, I fully intend to. You'll find that dealing with me on the whole is appreciably more predictable than dealing with some of the egomaniacs that are my peers. So long as our business doesn't go sour, my word is gold."

I broke out into a wide smile. That was exactly what I wanted to hear. "Wonderful. Glad to be doing business with you." I shook her hand once again to seal the deal.

"Before I forget, take this." She handed me an old, Victorian-style key. "The only way to reach the Ocean House Hotel this time of night is through the sewers. Here, I have a map of the system that outlines the fastest route to the location from here. Take it. You'll need that key to open the gate for that tunnel."

While I wasn't enthused at all about trudging through the sewers, my aversion wasn't enough to dampen my curiosity-fueled excitement over the chance to study a phenomenon I hadn't ever experienced before. "Alright, then – I'll get right on it. Good evening, Miss Voerman."

Turning around, I was suddenly struck by a massive, wall-sized portrait looming over me. The centerpiece of the work was a bald, looming, creepy-looking man in a black suit. Flanking him on either side were two young girls, identical twins, dressed identically – the same in every way, save that one had pigtails. It was at that moment that I realized that Therese and Jeanette were identical twins. And that looming figure… their father. _Huh.__Must__have__had__a__pretty__interesting__parenting__style__if__he__raised__both__sisters.__They're__so__different__from__each__other,__I__find__it__hard__to__believe__they're__even__related._

With that last thought, I left the writhing madness of The Asylum.


	10. Chapter 9: Waiting on the Rain to Change

**Thank you all for continuing to read, and for all of you who reviewed my work! **

**Flying Frog: I was being facetious – and trying to be funny. Obviously, my humor fell flat on its face, just like Lucius'. I'm actually quite flattered that you were interested enough in Lucius' motivations to successfully predict his course of action. In any case, I loved the Ocean House Hotel a great deal as well, though personally my favorite part was Grout's mansion. Unfortunately, we won't be getting to it until the next chapter. Still, I think you'll enjoy this one.**

**Rednightmare: Don't feel bad. You were sick. The fact you were able to both put out a chapter and beta-read is astonishing, and it was an easy fix. If not for you, Therese would have been revealed to be a rabid Lord of the Rings fan! We can't have that, now can we?**

**Claqueur: Thank you so much for the review of my story! I really appreciate the feedback – and I appreciate it when people read my profile X). As for Lucius being Malkavian… Lucius is only hearing **_**one**_** voice. Malkavians hear multiple voices, often arguing with each other. Now, I love the clan Malkavian. I seriously considered making Lucius a Malk when I started, but honestly, it's hard to say or do much with a Malk character unless one's a really good writer and can handle an extremely unreliable protagonist. Maybe I'll do it in a future story. Or maybe in a future game. And on that note:**

**Just to remind everyone, I still have that World of Darkness Roleplaying forum up! It's under forums in World of Darkness. It's also linked to in my profile. Nobody's taken the bait and posted yet. That makes me sad :'( Just check it out and maybe post something on the looking for games section. It'll be really fun people – a chance for all us VTM fans to make characters and play around in text form!**

**Quick note: I may be incorrect, but I think that VTM:BL was supposed to take place in 2003. I'm working on the assumption that's the timeframe we're working with. If I'm wrong, feel free to send me a PM and/or review letting me know.**

.

.

.

I heaved a sigh of relief as the doors swung shut behind me, blocking out the thought-numbing music and the soul-roiling crowd. Well, for the most part. The beats could still be heard reverberating through the walls of the building, and a small section of the crowd was gathered outside the doors. They were crowded under the awning, taking shelter from the rain that was blasting down like a solid sheet of water, like a waterfall from the sky. There were small groups of two or three, clustered together and making conversation, along with the occasional loner here and there. The club-goers were either smoking cigarettes or just sitting on the benches, panting and sweating, coming outside to temporarily escape the madness and cool down.

I myself felt the need to sit down, if only to collect my thoughts and plan my next course of action. I flopped onto the nearest available bench, next to some guy in fingerless gloves, knee-length black leather laced-up boots, short pink shorts, and a black fishnet mesh shirt. I eyed him once, ruefully, before deciding to ignore the guy and stare out at the rain instead. _Shit. It really is pouring. The sewers might actually be dangerous right now. I should probably hold off. So… what to do until this tropical deluge subsides?_ My queries were interrupted by my bench-mate's attempts at conversation.

"Man," he said, putting a hand to his head, "it's good to be outside. It's a goddamn factory-farm of insanity in there. I swear, it's as degrading as it is uncomfortable."

I slid my eyes in his direction without turning my head or moving a single muscle. Out of pure curiosity, I inquired, "Why do you bother coming here in the first place, then?"

With a smile, he replied, "Because being in there makes being out here seem that much more pleasant. Makes you appreciate your regular, sane, normal life, you know?" With a chuckle to himself, he pulled a cigarette pack out of his pocket (how on earth that had fit in those tight short-shorts is beyond me) and grabbed a single cancer-stick out with his lips. Looking over at me, he held out the pack, offering me one.

I stared down at the series of cylinders that had been such a bane on my life, such a source of such struggle and misery five years ago. I used to be a chain smoker, until I quit for good. You have to keep in mind, I grew up in the 1980s – sure, we knew smoking was bad for us, but nobody but busybodies and health nuts really cared that much. Hell, for the first few years I was at my job I could smoke indoors – at a chemical supply warehouse. Yes, there was, in fact, a time when people would smoke indoors, in a poorly ventilated office, adjacent to a warehouse full of potentially toxic/flammable chemicals. Yes, humanity was once that stupid. According to my parents, you used to be able to smoke on airplanes, too. In any case, more and more evidence came out in the 90s that smoking was more than just unhealthy – it was deadly. That, coupled with a ban on smoking in workplaces in 1998, on top of becoming worried about growing old – having the cold specter of your death suddenly become more than a vague, far-off concept has a way of getting to you – all combined to make me quit the nasty habit. I can't tell you how many of my fellow smokers cried and moaned about the ban, but I was glad – it was just the push I needed to clean myself up. Clean for five years, after a terrible and miserable struggle to overcome my chemical dependence. So naturally, my first instinct was to refuse – I hadn't broken my vow of abstinence one time yet. But then it occurred to me: _I'm dead. My lungs don't need to function. I could literally pour a barrel of tar down them, and while I'm sure it would be unpleasant, I wouldn't die. So… why bother?_

Suddenly self-conscious of my lungs, I took in a deep breath. It was only then that I realized: I hadn't been breathing since… _since when, exactly? How did I just unconsciously stop that habit?_ I thought back. _I wasn't breathing when I was speaking to Jeanette – if I still had a beating heart, being around that psycho would have stopped that, too. But as a matter of fact, I stopped breathing before that – I would have been hyperventilating or something if I hadn't already stopped, what with the combined effect of the crowd and the memories of Jenny and the clown in front of me. So, when… of course._ The moment I'd put myself in the bubble (which I'd abandoned as soon as I'd left the club). _Ha! I should have known Serena's breathing techniques would have a different purpose for Kindred._ She had taught me a system whereby one managed to slow one's breathing rate slowly, steadily, and unconsciously as part of the calming ritual. What had never occurred to me when I was being taught this system, of course, was the concept that one's breathing rate could be lowered to zero. _And yet, it makes perfect sense. I knew the sense of calm that came over me was far more relaxing than anything I'd experienced as a human. I should have noticed when the smell of the compressed, writhing human flesh all around stopped bothering me._

These thoughts all passed within my mind in the space of mere seconds, all while I held in the first breath I'd taken in minutes. Exhaling, I returned to the matter at hand. _Honestly… why not? I've already sunk my teeth into the neck of a bum who hadn't washed in weeks and the neck of a rat. Compared to that, this could hardly be considered disgusting. Everything is relative to its circumstances. Maybe that's why they smoke so much in China – it's so polluted, at that point it's not like smoking is going to take that many years off your life, anyway, since the air is just as carcinogenic._ With a smile at that last thought and for my generous bench-mate, I removed one of the mortally dangerous cylinders from the container for the first time in half a decade. The fishnet man next to me lit up his cigarette, then tossed me the lighter. I stared down at the potential flame in my hand, all kinds of excitement and fear lighting up my dead nervous system. Just knowing that within my hand, I had the ability to create a chemical reaction that instilled a bestial, instinctual fear within me – that could truly destroy my undead flesh and end my supernatural existence – would have been enough. But knowing that I could also initiate another series of chemical reactions within my mind using this tool was icing in the cake. _Will this even work? I mean, can I still process chemicals in my brain? Do my nerves even fire any more? Will my neuroreceptors respond to these artificial transmitters? I guess I'll see._ I took the plunge, flicked the Bic, and lit the cancer-stick.

The first thing I noticed as I inhaled was the taste – _fucking bitter, acrid, and generally godawful, as usual. It could only ever taste good to someone with a chemical dependence._ The second thing I noticed, following mere moments on the heels of the first, was the burn – which stung far, _far_ worse than it ever had in life. My eyes widened and I coughed forcefully, to no avail – my throat still felt on fire. _Why exactly did I think this was a good idea, again? _Still, the guy next to me was smirking at me, so I may as well follow through. Taking another hit – this time slowly and carefully to avoid becoming the victim of partial self-immolation – I held the carbon monoxide-laden exhaust in my dead lungs for an extended period of time. It was slow and weak in kicking in, but that old familiar feeling came back – like an abusive ex that you still can't help but love when she shows up at your door after the hundredth breakup, even though you know you need to stop. _Go figure I'd take up smoking again after being reminded forcefully of Jenny._ It was like… not pleasant, really. You just felt cool, self-assured, and a little energetic. For me, more than anything else, it was the comforting familiarity of the action that had the most meaning, as the simple act connected me to my former life. Of course, the real effects came later, when you didn't have it – when you felt low, irritable, and tired – and believe me, the lows were far lower than the highs were high, and lasted far longer, too – becoming your normal, baseline state of existence, until you were chain-smoking just to function. The possibility that I might be falling into a second addiction just as I was figuring how to deal with the first suddenly terrified me. I shoved the gaseous nicotine out of me with a fierce contraction of my lungs.

I sat there, staring at the burning ember. Even as I worried, I was also comforted by this familiar act. It was very human, this act of weakness and chemical dependency – a visceral reminder of who and what I once was. I continued to smoke in silence, deciding to focus on the chemical mechanics of the act to calm myself. _It's definitely taking a long, long time to hit my brain. Makes since, given the lack of blood circulation. How is it even getting there at all? I suppose that it would eventually move through my system through simple diffusion due to concentration gradient. Still, I wonder if I could expedite the process by manually compressing my heart. That's a theory to test when I'm not surrounded by onlookers. Still, how would my body break down the nicotine? It's not like I have a functioning liver anymore. I guess eventually my blood… burns up, or whatever it does – but I guess I get to feel nice until that happens. Sweet deal._

With a smile, I took one last drag, held in the chemical brew, flicked the butt out into the waterlogged streets, got up, nodded in appreciation to my temporary companion, and walked out into the deluge. Once I was obscured by the heavenly waterfall, I decided to try my idea out. Balling my hand into a fist, I pounded on my chest – _hard_. _Ouch. Still, what a freaking rush! Hypothesis definitely confirmed._ I must have made quite a strange sight, standing there in an absolute downpour, pounding myself in the chest with an intensity that would make any onlooker think I was trying to give myself CPR. Which was, in effect, what I was doing. Finally happy with the amount of self-confidence I'd artificially gained, I let the smoke billow out, only for it to be smashed cruelly into the earth by the weight of the water, denied its opportunity to float freely among the clouds. _Well, time to get out of the rain, I suppose._ I walked forward, blind and oblivious – only aware that there was some kind of white building in front of me. Walking closer, I could just barely make out the "Diner" sign, despite being on the sidewalk next to the building – the rain was coming down so hard. With a relieved sigh, I stepped in.

The place was old, likely constructed in the 1950s. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned since then. There was a distinctly septic smell coming from the trash can to my right, my shoes stuck to the floor, and the counter was covered with crumbs, smeared condiments, and bits of meat whose age I didn't care to guess at. As I was watching, I saw the cook grab a handful of cooked fries with bare, gloveless hands and stuff them into a paper cup, before passing them to an old woman who looked as tired as she was hunched over – and she looked like she could be the Hunchback of Notre Dame's mother. If not for the fact that I knew I was immune to disease and wasn't going to be consuming a bite of their food, I would have turned around and walked right back out – rain be damned. As it was, I practiced Serena's breathing technique, slowing my respiration until I no longer needed to deal with the smell of the place, making it tolerable.

I sat down in a nearby booth, shaking myself off. I had originally come here just to wait out the storm, but something about this place was jogging my memory. Something connected to beaches… and shirtless Australian men… _Ah, of course. E mentioned something about meeting Lily at a diner across the street from The Asylum. Hmm… well, while I'm here, I suppose I could do some detective work. Least I can do, considering how much E managed to help me get a hold of myself at a time when I really needed it._

I got up and walked over to the counter just as the anorexic finished getting her small fries (no doubt the first thing she's eaten in days). The woman at the counter looked up at me with dead, mechanical eyes. "Yes? What can I get you?"

Trying my best to present a friendly, open smile, I replied, "Nothing, really. I'm actually looking for someone who used to come around here. Her name was Lily. Have you seen her lately? I'm a friend of hers."

The woman, whose nametag read Dorris, looked up at me, actually seeing me for the first time as some glimmer of humanity radiated through the automated exterior that had enveloped her life like a crushing vice. "Oh, so you know that nice girl? First decent human being I've seen in here for years – not like all the junkies and crazies I normally see." She gave me an entirely non-approving look from head to toe. _Yeah, yeah, I know what I look like, Dorris._ "Yeah, I remember her. Yeah… weird. She left a tip but didn't order a thing. She looked so hungry, too." _Yeah, I bet she did. I could use a bite myself… later, Lucius. Task at hand._ "Just sat there all night with a full glass of water in front of her, talking about this and that. She seemed lonely, a little scared – so I let her stay in the booth until we closed. She left some stuff here. You seem to know her…" She reached under the counter, removing a backpack that she had obviously kept there in the hope that one day she could help this girl she barely knew. "…here – why don't you give it back if you run into her." She handed me the parcel almost reverentially. I took it in my arms and thanked her for it, giving her a genuine smile for her honest altruism. Evidence in hand, I retreated to the booth to begin my search.

Opening her nondescript grey bag, I found only two slips of paper. The first was a photo of the girl in question: lanky, with a mop of red hair and red freckles dotting an open, smiling face. She had a psychedelic, tie-dye midriff top on and a pair of worn jeans. She looked… _well, genuine, like E said. _The words written on the back confirmed what I suspected: "August 03, Santa Monica, Lily." _Looks like the trail's a month old._ Putting the photo back in the bag, I looked at the other slip of paper. A bail bond – for someone named Rolf Toten. _Hmm… well, it's not much of a lead, but it's better than nothing, I guess._ Pushing the paper back in the pack, I zipped it up and slipped it on. On my way out, I asked Dorris one final question. "Hey, do you know any bail bondsmen around town?"

Looking up at me with equal parts surprise, curiosity, suspicion, and distaste, she answered, "Yeah. There's really only one in walking distance, anyway. Kilpatrick's – his place is right down the street. It's not normally much of a walk, but in this weather, you're liable to drown. You sure you don't want to stick around for a bit? Maybe order something while you wait for the storm to blow over?"

With a shrug, I told her, "Wish I could, Dorris, but my appetite is as nonexistent as my spare time. Thanks for your help – if I find Lily, I'll let her know you were trying to help her." Her eyes lit up, just a bit – a tiny bit of life in a person who had otherwise all but been reduced to a walking corpse in spirit, even though her heart still beat and she still breathed in the air. I gave her a sad smile, suddenly overcome by pity for the poor wretch. But hey, what could I do for her? Free her from mundaniety? _Well, I could at that, but I doubt she'd appreciate it. Funny how we all end up walking corpses one way or another._ With that melancholy thought, I turned and walked out the door.

_Well, what do you know? The rain's almost stopped. I guess I shouldn't keep Therese waiting. Time for a little exorcism._

.

.

.

**Just a quick note: don't smoke, kids. It's dumb. It fills your lungs with tar. It gives you cancer and, in many instances, a bad case of death. Lucius would have said no if not for the fact that he can't die of lung cancer. So unless you, too, are immune to death, don't do it. It's not even fun when you do smoke – you just become miserable when you don't. So why did I include it? Characterization. Vices make for interesting people. But in any case, if you're looking to vampire fanfiction for role models, I guess you have bigger problems than developing a smoking habit. **


	11. Chapter 10: Prying Open My Third Eye

**So, at long last, here it is, the first part of the Ocean House Hotel. I know it took awhile, but I wanted to do it right – after all, the last thing I need is a mob of angry Bloodlines fans hunting me down for ruining one of the best parts of the game.**

**Thanks to Claqueur, Flying Frog, and Stravvberry for you reviews. I really appreciate them. After all, without appreciative readers, what reason is there to write? I would also like to suggest to all my readers that you check out Claqueur's story "Saving Graces" and Stravvberry's story "The Girl With One Eye." They are both fantastic examples of Bloodlines fanfiction. Seriously, thank you both for your additions to this little corner of FanFiction.**

**Last but not least, a special thank you goes out to Rednightmare, who has been my number one fan, reader, reviewer, and has been a great beta-reader for this story. If you haven't already started reading her story, "Byzantine Black", what's wrong with you? It's the best story on this whole section! Go read it and have your mind blown. **

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The sewers had become a series of right-angled, roiling rivers. I carefully made my way along the concrete banks, doing my best to avoid slipping on the slick surface. It was especially perilous at the corners where the sharp, man-made right angles of the concrete enclosure disagreed with the fluid nature of the water it was made to contain. At the points where the straight motion of the river suddenly found that the downward path was perpendicular to its current flow direction, it had a nasty tendency to churn and overrun its banks in the course of changing its direction, requiring me to be very, _very_ careful. While I was certain that drowning wasn't a danger, I was just as certain that if I fell in I would be blasted along the downward path, unable to pull myself back out of the forceful flux. I'd be smashed into harsh concrete edges along the way before being deposited out into the ocean wherever the sewer system emptied itself. I'd end up floating among the waves of the Pacific, possibly miles away from where I needed to be. And that was only if I was lucky enough to make it all the way to the runoff's final destination – if the great wash passed through any grates, I'd end up stuck against the metal mesh by the water pressure, unable to move until the sheer volume of liquid had removed itself to the ocean. While I was reasonably certain I could survive both scenarios, I was absolutely certain I had no interest in testing _that_ particular hypothesis.

_Maybe I should have waited a little longer, _I thought to myself as I was forced to take a long detour in order to get to the other side of the dangerous current. Finally reaching the end of a long, underground alleyway, I found a great flood was pumping itself out of a grate. I ducked low and passed under it before turning around and heading back in the direction I came from, having successfully crossed the rolling river. _It had just seemed so pleasant out. It was as though the rain was just cut off like a spigot –one moment, a faucet the diameter of LA was on full blast, the next it wasn't leaking a drop. There were even holes in the clouds, letting the stars shine through. Typical of the tropical storms we get this time of year – but still, I should have known better than to expect the runoff to be washed out this quickly._ Truth be told, I had let my excitement over the prospect of seeing this ghost cloud my reason. I had this glimmer of hope that somehow I'd be given insight into how I could contact Serena. In fact, the more I thought about that possibility, the more I found myself desperately giddy at the prospect that I could summon Serena whenever I wished, that she might not really be taken from me, that I could continue to bask in her lessons and praise. I found myself so eager, in fact, that I hadn't really though it over when I slunk into a nearby alley, used my tire iron to unscrew the bolts on the sewer grate, and descended into the darkness below. That eagerness was still be propelling me forward, despite the numerous objections currently being raised by my common sense.

At long last, I reached my destination. The grate in front of me went across the whole of the sewer tunnel. The forceful motion of the extremely cohesive dihydrogen monoxide was greatly reduced here, but it was nothing I wanted to wade into. Unfortunately, I didn't appear to have much of a choice – the only way through the series of iron squares was a gate precisely in the middle of the tunnel, and precisely in the middle of the stream. I could make out a prison door-like lock block and keyhole one side of the gate. I pulled out the key Therese had given me and looked at it for a moment. _How exactly do I get it in the keyhole?_ With a sigh, I put the key securely back into my pocket, grabbed a hold of the grate with both hands, and proceeded to carefully lower myself into the flood.

The water was up to my waist, and there was absolutely no way I could have maintained a foothold, but my grip proved secure enough. Moving hand-over-hand, I slowly made my way to the gate. Now one-handedly holding myself steady, I used the other one to pull the key out. Carefully keeping myself steady, I delicately inserted the old Victorian key into its intended receptacle, wondering who exactly saw fit to put this lock here in the first place.

With a turn, the lock clicked. A single moment later, the force of the water swung the cast-iron gate open, just about wrenching my arm off and nearly causing me to lose my grip. Desperately pulling my free arm back and clinging to the grate tightly with both hands, I breathed rapidly, all but sure that my dead heart was beating fiercely until I got a hold of myself and calmed down.

Moving with the utmost, fear-inspired care, I pulled myself through the rectangular opening handheld-by-handheld. Once on the other side, I immediately climbed back up onto the concrete. Sitting down in relief, I took a quick breather, glad to still be in one piece after that mess. _This whole thing was really stupid. I'd go back if that didn't entail more danger than going on. Ah well. At least the worst part is over._

It was a short walk to the ladder at the end of the dead-end tunnel behind the grate. I climbed to the top, relieved to find that the manhole easily lifted when pushed. _Wouldn't that have been a riot – if I braved danger the entire way here, only to find that the manhole is sealed from the other side and I can't get there. I suppose it makes sense that Therese would make sure this thing is open, since it's the only way to get here at night._ I crawled out of the subterraneous labyrinth into gooey, sticky mud. The damn stuff was everywhere – once I pulled myself up, I saw an entire field of the brown gunk, molded into undulating waves. Pits were dug out next to small hills of the stuff, with nearby bulldozers and other construction equipment suggesting their origins. The equipment had sunk about half a foot into the highly viscous gunk, highlighting the amount of time it had lain dormant. This sea of filth was scattered with equipment, port-a-potties, and a single trailer all formed the front yard of an imposing, neo-Victorian building designed to look like some kind of mansion. It was looming and impressive: two massive, multi-story columns held up a balcony and framed an ornate front door. Everything seemed designed to draw the eyes skyward: the tall columns, tall, thin windows, vertically shining lights, all of which gave the impression of a great, looming edifice. I couldn't quite figure out why a hotel would go for such a look until I saw fit to turn around. I was amazed by the view that opened up in front of me: the ground fell away beyond the wall surrounding the mudpit, giving one a clear vista of the ocean beyond, which looked like a great obsidian block stretching into infinity, beautiful and terrible. Small patches of comfort radiated at the points where the stars shined through, reflecting their scintillating light in that endless, unfathomably deep body. Turning back around, the name of the hotel made sense, as did the attempts by the architects to make the hotel seem taller than it was – _make potential customers think the view is better than it is. Which isn't to say the view isn't fantastic to begin with_, I thought as I turned back to gaze at the ocean_. I wonder where we are, exactly? Must be somewhere in the Ventura Hills. Guess we're outside Santa Monica, or on its northwest edge, near the Pallisades. For an LA native like me, this is like… the boonies._

Turning around, I abandoned the view of the natural beauty and returned to the view of manmade architecture. As looming and imposing as the thing was, I was tasked with entering and taming this place. I felt like I was up to the challenge, despite my complete lack of preparation or understanding of what I was walking into. I confidently strode up to the door, put my hand on the handle, and pulled.

The doors wouldn't budge. _Figures._ With a sigh, I pulled out the lockpicking kit Jack had given me, knelt down, and got to work. _Shouldn't be too hard – the lock is old, only has like three or four pins._ I'd got the thing nearly done – _just one pin left. I've just got to angle the hook in there, and –_ BANG! I dropped the lockpick in surprise and fell over as hot sparks and glass shards blasted into the side of my face, with one particularly nasty, transparent needle imbedding itself directly in my right eyeball. I rolled on the ground in pain, holding my hand up to the damaged oracular organ. Blinking rapidly, I was struck by a moment of panic – I was afraid that I might be permanently blinded, before remembering the current healing capabilities I possessed. As though in answer to my fears, the pain in my eye was suddenly supplemented with an unbearable itching, all but forcing me to vigorously rub at the delicate orb, despite the sharp, piercing agony it caused. With a disgusting 'squelching' sound, the class shard was ejected and fell, clattering, to the ground. That certainly eased the madness-inducing misery, though the itching was still bad. After a few seconds, they both eased up, and my vision pretty much cleared.

_Well, shit._ Collecting myself, I grabbed my lockpicking kit. I looked up at the source of the interruption and pain. The light bulb in a faux-traditional lamp casing had exploded, bursting the glass windows of the lamp itself. _I could swear that thing had already burned when I came up here. Of course, it could have just been the power that was out, due to a faulty circuit. That circuit could have just overloaded, which caused a power surge, in turn causing the blowout. Or, you know, it could be whatever spirit lives here telling me to stay away from its haunt. Well, fortunately for me, a little glass shard in the eye is a temporary inconvenience rather than a permanently debilitating injury. _

I went over to the door, eying the other light warily. I positioned myself in such a way that my back was turned to it, and proceeded to overcome the lock mechanism with my series of hooks, rods, and levers. After a minute, I felt the satisfying release of motion as the mechanism yielded to my efforts. With a click and a creak, the door was open. I entered.

The interior was impressive, despite being obviously untended and dust-coated. An ornate chandelier hung above an intricately-patterned rug. Beyond both, two identical, curved staircases framed another chandelier, providing a glimpse of luxurious, symmetrical perfection. Or rather, I'm sure they had at one point. Now, colors had faded to the point that everything was varying shades of brown, debris was scattered throughout, lights no longer worked, pictures had fallen off their tacks – all in all, this place exuded faded glory. _Still, nice architecture._

I entered with Auspex active, hoping to see some sign of the spirit. I strode forward a few steps, trying to take in my surroundings, only to have my inspection interrupted by a scream to my left. I spun, focusing on the apparent source of the noise. _Sounds like a woman's scream. _I ran towards the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of anything. I saw the aura-outline of a person on the other side of the door behind the bar, only the aura was… sputtering. A normal aura looks like a steady stream of smoke rising from a strong fire – mostly white smoke with bits of color thrown in. This aura looked like a dying fire's product – strong at times, but ultimately inconsistent and weak. There were also many more colors mixed in the normally pure white aura, making it seem like the product of a hippie's artwork. _Rather beautiful, actually._ I leapt over the bar, knocking over empty glasses and bottles in the process. Trying to open the door, I found that the handle turned, but the door itself wouldn't move, seeming to be bolted from the other side. As I watched, the ephemeral, psychedelic aura dissipated, as though the fire that sourced the tie-dye smoke had suddenly been put out. With an irritated kick, I tried futilely to smash my way to the other side, though it was more an expression of frustration than anything else. _Calm down, Lucius. You have no idea what you're dealing with here._ I hopped back over the table, deciding to take a more investigative approach to all this.

After unsuccessfully looking around the side hallway I'd run down (nothing but bolted doors), I proceeded back to the central foyer where I'd entered. I was wandering over to the staircase, when a flash of red aura up above alerted me that something wasn't right. Unfortunately, my reflexes didn't quite prove up to the task. I mostly dodged out of the way, but the falling chandelier still managed to smack me right in the head. I ended up being knocked down, though my forward motion carried me away from the injurious decoration. The chandelier's blow wasn't all that bad of itself – what really proved to be a problem was the fact that the thing had felt positively _electrified_. I felt as though a massive current had been blasted directly into my brain upon impact.

I slowly raised myself up, dizzy and confused. I shook my head but that cleared nothing up. I felt dizzy. My mind was having trouble reconciling the input from each eye into a single image. I had this weird feeling, like I was actually outside my body – despite not actually being physically outside it – but like I was distinctly separate from it and controlling it through strings. _Who knows? That might not be off the mark. I don't think the traditional brain – nerves – muscles pathway is working anymore._ My mind was still working – it was just having a hard time getting much info from the body – sight, sound, anything. I tried to will myself forward, only to have my body stumble drunkenly. I thought I heard footsteps and growling – but it wasn't hearing, it was more like… like I heard, but not through the fuzzy connection with my body. I directly sensed it, somehow. It seemed to be coming from upstairs. I stumbled forward, reached the stairs, grabbed the stairwell, and started to climb, when…

BAM!

I was tumbling foot over head, twisting and smashing through a long tunnel of twisted turns of pipe and wood and I couldn't tell up from down or anything from anything _oh god this is going on forever how do I_-

Snap.

My neck, ribs, shoulder, and arm all broke as I impacted hard, unyielding concrete. The pain blasted into me a moment later, conveying a message of absolute panic, screaming at me that the body was now very, very broken. With a groan, I fell onto my face, glad that the messengers of pain seemed to be marching through some kind swamp, and many were getting lost on the way. It occurred to me then that perhaps I had jumped into this a bit early – maybe a bit of research on ghosts would have been in order before I decided to directly confront one. I lay facedown on the concrete, able to move my left arm and legs but not remotely interested in trying to get up. Whenever I opened my eyes, everything just swam, making me feel really sick, so I kept them firmly closed. I felt like everything was spinning wildly, or maybe it was all still and there simply was no point of reference to ground me. I had no idea where down was – even the cold of the concrete was unnoticeable – _it must be the same temperature as my body… my corpse._ I felt truly separate from my corpse, like I was trapped inside a shell. All bodily sensation had faded – sight, sound, touch. I scratched at myself from the inside, like a prisoner trying to wear away at the walls, like an infant trying to fight its way out of the womb, and I swear I was starting to see some kind of hole or crack or –

"_Lucius, what are you doing here?"_ I saw the face of my sire, filling the whole of my vision, what little I had. I felt like I was staring though a tunnel – or a peephole. _"How did you get on this side of the veil? What… I see. You need to go back inside, Lucius."_

I felt something pushing, and the pain came rushing back. Itching was filling me to my very core and I wanted to just rip my flesh open and scratch at my bones. It was fucking miserable, and I still felt detached from myself. I tried clawing again, pulling away from the sensations of my corpse, feeling the opening give, ripping and tearing and scratching and –

"_Lucius, stop!" _Her face once again filled my vision, and I saw her reach out to me. I felt her grab me – not my body; her hands passed through my body – and stare intently into me. I felt her presence fill my mind, comforting and calming me. _"Do you have any idea what you're trying to do? You can't possibly succeed – and if you did, it would be your death. You need to be one with your body. You need to finish this thing."_

I felt bitterness well up inside me. "I just want to be with you, Serena. Why don't you stay around? How can I find you?"

A look of love and pity came across her face. _"Lucius, it's hard to find you. I can't even begin to describe how easy it is to be lost in the Umbra. I – I'm sorry things worked out like this. I tried the best I could – and you should count yourself lucky. When Kindred die, they experience Final Death. Their soul dies along with their body. I found a way out – so at least you have some small shadow of me around. But I can't just stay with you, Lucius – it drains me to touch your mind."_

I choked something up in my corpse's throat – the bastard child of a sob and a laugh. "What am I supposed to do, Serena? I'm so lost – there's so much I don't understand. Why is this happening? What's going on here?"

Her face took on the serious look of an instructor. _"Okay, let's go over the basics. There's a longstanding spirit here, who has managed to thin the barrier between one world and the next. As I've seen through accessing your memories, I know that you need to exorcise this spirit. I believe the locus of high umbral permeability is attached to an object that should be easy to pick up and remove. The high umbral permeability region is caused by the confluence of location and object, so removal of the object should fix the issue for the most part, and the rest could be achieved with the proper rituals using the object, which I'm sure your employer will contract clan Tremere for. Be very careful – the fabric of what you would call "reality" is thin here – and the primary spirit you are dealing with is highly malevolent. Keep your head about you, even if everything around you seems to be completely irrational. Members of our clan are meant to be bastions of stability and rationality among the world of the supernatural, and I expect you to live up to that legacy. Now, go back inside, Lucius. You can't escape like this – only stare out in longing."_ With that, she held up a mirror. I saw myself, passed out on the ground, eyes closed… except for a single eyeball that seemed to be staring out from a bloody hole messily drilled through the center of my forehead. I stared in horror, and the eye widened at me. Only then did I realize that the eye was mine, that this was how I was looking out at the world. I recoiled in horror, closing my eye, pulling myself away from the terrible image, trying to –

My eyes flew open. Everything was blurry and wouldn't hold still. The pain was back in force, and the deep, maddening itching was making me want to pull myself apart. It was all too much. With a sudden heave, I found myself vomiting. The physical action shocked me back into awareness. After coughing a bit, I took in my first shuddering breath since the chandelier had hit me. The action seemed to collect me, to pull me back into my body. With a force of will, I made my vision clear. Looking down, I saw that I had puked up a little puddle of blood. A new sensation now came upon me – hunger. This coincided with the fading of the deep pain coming from my bones and an amplification of the itching. I had a brief urge to lean over and start licking up the blood I had just puked. _Um, no. I'm not that desperate._

Leaning onto my left side, I carefully began lifting myself up onto my feet. I stood there for a moment, testing out all the points of impact. I could move my neck and arm, but they were quite stiff, and doing so sent jolts of pain right into me. I held my head with my left hand, trying to wait this out and give myself a moment to make sense of it all. _What the hell just happened? Was that real? I mean, I did hit my head really hard. Hard enough to give myself a concussion several times over. I may have just been delirious while my supernatural healing was fixing the damage. On the other hand… what was Serena talking about? Umbra? Veil? She spoke about passing through the veil a lot, but I only remember vague references to umbra. Why would my mind fixate on that? Was that all real? Was I really looking out through…_

I raised my hand to my forehead and touched the spot I'd where I'd seen the eye. I looked at my fingers, only to find that they were now coated in blood. _Could be from the impact… wish I had a mirror. Christ, this is crazy. Whatever. Task at hand._ Looking around, I found I was in a featureless concrete box with only one exit. Looking up, I saw a tunnel-like hole had been smashed through the ceiling. Still… _I swear I fell for awhile. That hole should be longer._ Shaking my head, I tested my injuries. The pain was still there, but only mildly, and even the itching was bearable. I decided to venture forward. I went to the door and tried to open it. It was locked.

_Great, just fucking great, _I thought as I tried to force the handle to turn. That only sent a jolt of electricity into me, causing me to jump back. Dizziness and disconnection came flooding back with renewed vigor, just like with the chandelier. I was prepared this time, though, and managed to keep myself from panicking, standing still until the sensation passed. Even as I shook my head again to try and clear it, I noticed something – the handle of the door had turned on its own. The door opened, creaking loudly as it swung out. I looked at it suspiciously. The strangest thing – Auspex wasn't active, but I know I saw the briefest flash aura around the door when it opened. I tried to activate Auspex, only to have this searing pain tear into that spot in my forehead, and that dizzy sense of disconnection nearly overwhelm me. I stopped that immediately. I felt this strange presence emanating from beyond the doorway, sensing it from beyond my body. I carefully stepped through, ready for anything.

I found a series of pipes, gauges, and bricks facing me. This was obviously a service area – nothing was aesthetically pleasing. The functional guts of the place were out in the open for all to see. I personally always preferred it when you could see the exposed parts of something laid bare, like a real-life technical diagram. Still, this was a dead end. Turning around, I saw a narrow hallway providing the only way forward. I walked into it, seeing a crossroads of sorts up ahead. The hallway seemed to stretch further than it appeared at first as I proceeded down it, yet the distance to the intersection ahead appeared to remain constant… almost like a real life dolly zoom.

I was stopped in my tracks near the intersection by the strangest feeling – like there was some kind of membrane in front of me. Or perhaps it was an extreme density change – like I was standing in one phase of matter, feeling the edge of another. Suddenly, I saw a young girl dressed in a simple white dress run through the junction in front of me. The look on her face as she stared behind her was one of a terror beyond terror, of such a profound sense of confusion and dislocation that all of her being could barely begin to grasp what it was she was truly staring at. _How do I know this?_ For I had seen the sputtering, colored aura surrounding her, blowing behind her as she fled, melding indistinguishingly into the waving folds of her dress that flew out behind her like billowing tresses of hair. From these colors that flew behind her, I was somehow able to comprehend the minutiae of her mind and emotional state at that moment. Piercing through my fear and confusion was a desire to reach out and aid her, which I swear I felt grasp from beyond the phase change membrane and pull me forward. It was aided by the urge within me to sate my curiosity, and so I submitted to the pull and stepped into a strange world.

I felt as though I was swimming in a warm bath. And yet my body didn't feel this sensation, and I could perceive of no sensory information that backed this up – I knew it was cold as death down here, I saw that the walls were all still, yet the perception remained. Moving into the intersection, however, I did see a huge abnormality. Standing in the center, I found that in all four directions one could see a shimmering curtain, similar to the way the surface of a body of water looks from above, but sideways. I could see nothing clear beyond these veils, yet I heard whispers and felt pulls and pushes. In the direction the girl had fled from I heard guttural and staggering whispers, and felt something entirely… unsettling. Turning around, I heard high-pitched and halting whispers, like muted screams and sobs. I felt a desperate desire for an impossible aid. I ran towards the bitter plea and away from the threatening hate, and flew directly into the shimmering barrier.

Despite the lack of any real physical difference, the new area felt stiflingly cold and still – even more so than the world had before I'd entered the warm, undulating section. I saw a single room in front of me. I found it bare and empty. In confusion, I turned back the way I'd come – only to find the malevolent force from before pushing out from the intersection with far more intensity. _Oh god, it's after me!_

I searched around desperately. I saw small slivers of light coming through the wall in a far corner. Pulling my tire iron out of my pants, I began desperately smashing at the loose bricks. Once I had formed a large enough opening, I got down on all fours and proceeded to crawl through.

I felt a change in the air – like it had been stagnant, silent, and untouched for years. I knew the presence wouldn't follow me here. I saw row upon row of washing machines. The only door out of here had been boarded up and chained. A thick layer of duct coated everything. My footsteps echoed resoundingly throughout the laundry room. Looking down, I saw that I was leaving prints in the uniform layer of dust. Only… _it's not quite uniform, is it?_ Forcing the activation of Auspex, I only allowed it to function mildly, balancing the advances in my senses with the pain, dizziness, and disorientation.

I saw them. The long coated-up impression of footprints from who knows how long ago. One set was small, the other large – and both led in the same direction. I followed them, recreating their path anew in the powdery coating. I stopped at a table for folding clothes, where the small steps ended. I looked over the wooden surface. I noticed that there were deep marks, cuts, and indentations here. Looking closely, I saw small coatings of long-dried blood in many of those cracks, though an effort had obviously been made to clean the table since the blood was fresh.

I followed the larger prints, which continued on. They ended abruptly at a single dryer. I heard cries and whispers from inside. Upon inspection, I saw nothing through the circular glass, and yet I knew that something was within it. I reached out to open the door, only to have it squeak open of its own volition. I stared inside, trying to catch a glimpse, and then suddenly I saw… nothing. Just an empty dryer.

I looked around the dryer for a bit, trying to figure out if I was overlooking something. Nothing on top, nothing around it, nothing behind it – there wasn't even a plug or cord back there, apparently. Scratching my head, I looked around. I couldn't see any other footprints, any other sign of any disturbance to the dust or room in years. _What am I even looking for? Why did I come in here? That girl… and the presence. Well, the only way out of here is back the way I came, I guess._ I turned to the hole I had smashed in the brickwork and started to head back. That's when I heard it.

"Whirrrrrrrr – Thunk!"

I turned around, perplexed.

"Whirrrrrrrr – Thunk!"

I saw that the dryer I had been inspecting before was now on, despite the lack of power or plug – and even though the door was open. It was spinning quite slowly. I walked up to it, trying to figure out what was going on by looking inside. It was still completely empty – except that "thunk" sounded distinctly like something heavy tumbling around in there. I peered in carefully. I couldn't see anything, any aura. I tried Auspex once again, forcing myself to ignore the straining, stretching, ripping feeling coming from my forehead – or the dizziness and nausea that started spreading through me. I focused, trying to see. My face was right up to the dryer – even inside a little. In fact, I barely saw it before my nose would have bumped into it.

A child's head. A child's severed head – eyes and mouth stuck open in a permanent expression of horror. It was barely there – barely a ghostly outline – but there was no mistaking it.

"Whirrrrrrrr." The head moves along the side of the dryer as it spins up.

"Thunk!" The head falls from the top of the dryer to the bottom.

"Whirrrrrrrr – Thunk!"

"Whirrrrrrrr – Thunk!"

"Whirrrrrrrr – Thunk!"

I could no longer see the head as I'd let go of Auspex immediately – but I could hear it clear as could be, and I suddenly wanted to be very far away from that terrible sound. I turned back the way I'd come and exited the room. I still felt malevolence radiating from the crossroads ahead, but it was either much weaker or I now cared much less. The sound was still following me from that room and I wanted to get through that sound-muffling veil as soon as possible. I stepped through.

The swimming warmth was highly comforting. I somehow knew that I was safe here from whatever entity was responsible for the horror in the laundry room. In fact, I felt like I was protected from almost anything – like I was in some kind of weird limbo that stood between potential hells, but was itself immune to their effect. I was not sure of the source of this feeling – again, it was a sensation experienced outside sensory perception. The "separate from my own body" sensation was quite strong here – but I was starting to get used to it, and it was far less disorienting than it had been. I took a moment to collect myself – the disconnection was actually calming. It reminded me of the state I found myself in after doing Serena's calming exercises. _Doing one would help me get things under control. _I closed my eyes, shut out my senses – all that I am was contained within the bubble. I began to realize that certain sensations were coming through the bubble, straight into me. With my senses cut off, I was able to sit within the bubble and perceive this new sense, and the world it revealed to me.

A feeling – like a switchboard, a conduit of energies. That's where I was standing. Behind me… desperate horror, minds cracking at revelations that they could not comprehend, someone who was supposed to represent safety and security suddenly becoming a mortal threat, and sudden interruptions of life flow patterns. In front of me, there was an obsessive hate and a desire to cause the pain coming from behind. To my right I felt… the vaguest glimmerings of something… a positive emotion, drowned out among the clamor of horror and hate. Hope…

I opened my eyes, pulling myself from the vague world I had begun to explore. _This is all very difficult to understand. I've clearly unlocked some form of sixth sense perception – meaning my vision of Serena was undoubtedly real. Heck, she probably excelled at such uses of Auspex. She did always go on and on about it – about how important it was to, "see through the illusions we are made to believe in" and, "pierce the heart of truth." I always found Thaumaturgy more interesting, personally. Okay, so what does it all mean? What am I looking for?_ The bubble was pulling me together, allowing me to maintain my reason, to be a bastion of stability and rationality among the world of the supernatural. _Serena said the spirit was malevolent. Well, there's definitely malevolence ahead. Let's go that way, then._

Passing through the curtain, I found myself descending a set of stairs. The room at the end was obviously a boiler or generator room of some kind. It was filled with enormous pipes, tanks, valves, and a great deal of wires that ran along the sides and ceiling. I walked forward, but there was something about the sound of my footsteps… I stopped. My footsteps continued. I immediately turned Auspex on again, though it was now starting to create a nasty rumbling in my stomach whenever I used it. Fortunately, the dizziness and nausea distracted me from the hunger – in fact, the two rather cancelled one another out, allowing me to focus on actually trying to see using the ability.

I heard before I saw. "_How could you? How could you how could you how could you bitch you cheating hussy our children are drowned in sin they must be cleansed they must be…_" The whispers and footsteps led me to the source of the disturbing disturbance. I saw an outline of a man, barely visible, standing there, staring intently at me, hands bloody, shirt bloody, face bloody, holding a bloodstained axe. He stared out from sunken pits of eyes while muttering insanities under his breath. Without thinking, I pulled out my gun and pointed it at him. He stared at it for a moment, before pulling his head back and bursting out in maniacal laughter that echoed resoundingly off the pipes. I began to see bright pieces of aura fly out his ephemeral form and into the various pieces of the generator setup, bouncing off of them like the sound of his madness, before he completely dissipated and the aura bits embedded themselves within the metalwork that made up the room.

_Okay… so is this the spirit I'm dealing with here? What just happened?_ Not sure how to proceed, I decided to explore this place. It seemed like a very old power system. Very large, clunky tanks generated steam using gas heating to run a generator. _I guess when this place was built there was no power available out here. Hell, I don't think I saw a power line running in when I was outside. This may still be the only source of power._ Reaching the far end, I found myself facing a very old control system. Nothing was computerized – just a series of switches and analog readouts. I noticed a large red lever on the side, with "POWER" written above it. It was set to off. _There's no way that's why the power is off. This thing must be decrepit as hell. Still, worth a shot…_

To my immense surprise, the gas burst into flame beneath the many boilers with a great "_whoosh!"_ I had to see if this thing might actually be functional. Sure enough, I saw flame, viewed the rising pressure gauges on top of the boiler, and I heard the high-pitched squeal of high-pressure steam pushing through piping. Walking further down, I proceeded past a long length of large and convoluted piping.

A sharp "_ping!_" was the only warning I had before scalding steam burst through the pipe next to me and charred the skin off my face.

I fell to the ground, clutching at my face, screeching inhumanly. The pain of the burning was fucking _unbearable._ Having glass shards in my eyes, getting shot, all of that had hurt, but briefly – my body had quickly taken care of it, and there was none of that "oh god I'm injured seriously" feeling when they happened – I was able to keep going, confident in my body's ability to handle it. This was different. I now got why Jack had warned me about fire. The beast was screaming within me that I needed to run, that I needed to get out NOW. I pulled myself up onto all fours, crawling under the stream of steam. I was blasted in the side by another burst in the pipe. I leapt forward like a terrified animal, howling in agony. I tried to get up, only to fall back to the floor at the feel of horrible burning on the back of my neck. I clambered forward, panting in fear, unable to think unable to breathe running on pure instinct – because that horrible fucking _burning_ was all around me. I found the steam spraying directly into me, all around me, fucking _everywhere_. With a terrified snarl, I leapt forward blindly.

I felt the pan fade away, move behind me. My relief at escaping the burning misery was interrupted by my smashing into a generator ahead of me. It impacted me skull-first, knocking me to the ground in an insulting addition to my injuries. I lay there for a moment, curled up into a ball, moaning at myself. Fear fought the pain back, and I quickly pulled myself up. _Time to get the hell out of here._ I ran along rows of spinning turbines, barely noticing that they were now active, scarcely registering the fact that the hallway lights were now on as I ran out of the room. I didn't stop until I had passed into the shimmering spiritual switchboard once again.

I leaned against a wall, panting, moaning, shuddering. _God, that fucking hurts._ The pain was now augmented by an itching that was just strong enough to highlight it, but not strong enough to distract from it. The formerly aggressive beast was now a screaming coward, tail clutched between its legs. _**We need to escape! This place is dangerous! There's no blood here we can only heal ourselves so much and you keep using Auspex just to see what kind of threat we're dealing with! This isn't going to work we're going to get killed here Lucius you need to get out of here now before-**_

"Shut up!" I shouted at myself. _I need to get this done. Either we complete our task here, or the Baron of Santa Monica and the Prince of LA will be pissed at us and have us killed. So stop crying and help me look for threats. I need your edge here if we're going to survive this._ My beast seemed to think it over for a moment. _**Very well, **_was its only response.

Pushing on past the pain and the confusion, I ventured down the only hallway I hadn't explored yet. The one that radiated hope. Moving out of the sanctuary, I found the cooling of the air to be quite refreshing for my tender, oxidized skin. I walked to the end of this hallway only to find a well-lit room with an open elevator waiting for me. After a moment of suspicious contemplation, I entered and pressed the only available button: up.

The elevator labored slowly up. I felt a definite change as I ascended, like a change in pressure or temperature, but again it was a spiritual property sensed through my new third eye. The small metal box stopped for far too long, almost half a minute, before opening its doors. _Thank god. I thought I was going to have to break out._ I stepped out, trying to get my bearings. For the first time since I'd fallen, I could locate myself spatially. I looked down over the balcony at the foyer where I'd entered. _Okay, so I've come full circle, except I've now managed to go up a story. Not the most direct way to do it, but it worked, so I suppose –_

_**Down!**_ I obeyed my beast in fear and fell to the floor. I felt something fly past directly overhead, and observed a framed painting fall over the balcony, crashing on the ground below. Leaping up, I turned around in time to see the dying flash of aura dissipating where the painting had been. Scowling, I decided that I now had a personal dislike of this spirit. Nerves ready, I carefully made my way forward, eyes flickering around to all potential threats. As I went past the stairway, I knew I could feel something up ahead… some kind of nexus, like before.

It was situated right in the middle of the hallway, right between two doors that were on one side of the hall, so that you had to pass through the otherworldly region to reach either. Again, I felt myself calm down in this thing's presence. Closing my eyes, entering the bubble, I strained to use the new sense again, even going so far as to activate Auspex just a little, though not enough to make the straining and disorientation distracting (I was getting more and more used to it all the time). I felt as though there were a single column of shimmering otherworldliness running through this hotel. It was more like a cone, projecting downward from some central location that was the nexus of this place. Only… the locations weren't physically on top of each other, but they lined up somehow… in another world, a funhouse mirror of our own.

I could feel two distinct and powerful "zones" adjacent to this place, behind each door, diametrically opposed. There was an inviting, hopeful innocence tinged with sadness, fear, and despondent misery behind the left door, and a fierce, hateful violence on the right… but at the same time, there was something else in the right door… I couldn't put my finger on it. _**Stop wasting blood on Auspex and pick a door.**_ Surprised at the reasonable tone my beast was adopting, I let go of the symbols in my mind and opened my eyes, though I kept the bubble. I decided to try and avoid pain for now, as my skin was still healing. I opened the door on the left. Everything appeared obscured inside it, but I saw a shimmering light. I entered the room.

There was no sign of the light I had seen. The room seemed completely normal – no auras, no sense of anything – just a prevailing atmosphere of peace and safety. There were various signs of habitation by children – toys, crayons, and poor artwork littered the ground. Glimpsing down, I saw a drawing that would have made most social workers start asking a few questions. It showed a happy family – son, daughter, and mother – but the father was black, angry, and on fire, and the end of the drawing itself looked like it had been burned. I dropped the paper at a sound. I strained to make it out.

"Daddy, why?"

I felt a real twinge of sympathy work its way through my beast, disconnection, confusion, and fear. _This child was murdered in cold blood… by their own father? No wonder this place is haunted._ With one final look around for anything useful, I stepped out of this self-contained world and into the hallway.

I felt my sympathy turning into anger at the person who had done this. My anger amplified at the knowledge that it was probably continuing to torment its family, even after they died. I felt the room on the right react to my hate, amplifying its own. I firmly opened the door. The shimmering seemed chaotic, like water being whipped into a frenzy by a storm. I resolutely passed within.

Initially, I was confronted only by an empty hotel room, much like the first, except without any signs of child habitation. I heard a whisper. "_Come back. Come back to me!_"

The lights burned out in a flash. I was in darkness. I felt an oppressive presence fill the place, saw little twinges of aura flashing throughout the room. I felt the air thin, felt it get hard to breathe. I panicked for a moment, while the terrible sound of a man growling like a beast began to fill the room. Then I remembered. _I don't need to breathe._ My fear conquered by logic, I laughed at how foolish I'd been to even worry about such a thing. My laughter was not appreciated.

I saw the auras converge into a writhing ball. A sudden blast of energy from it pushed me back and shocked my brain with that strange, dislocating electricity that had flowed through the chandelier. The lights came back on, revealing that the room had been rummaged through and destroyed. Scratches and holes dotted the walls. Shelves were overturned. Scratched into the wall above the bed were the words "GET OUT!" I laughed again at how very _stereotypical_ it was. _I guess even Hollywood gets it right once in a while._

I felt the spirit react against my mirth once again. I heard muttering. "_You think it's funny? I'll make you scream, you filthy intruder – turning my wife against me, breaking up my home like this. I'll show you. I'll show you._" I sensed a presence here – very much like myself, in a way – a spirit that wasn't integrated into a body. The difference, of course, was that I had a body I could control like a puppet, through which I could draw life. He had only his own hate and delusions to give him strength.

With a sneer on my face, I addressed the hateful poltergeist. "Listen, you child-murdering asshole. From one undead, supernatural entity to another, you're not staying here. I still have my body, and it can take a hell of a lot of abuse. So you can either make this easy for yourself, or you strain yourself trying to fight the inevitable. What's it going to be?"

The picture that flew from the nightstand directly into my face provided me with my answer.


	12. Chapter 11: Another Lesson Learned

**At long last, here it is! The thrilling conclusion to the Ocean House Hotel! It was a bit of a struggle to write this chapter, but I'm certain that you will love the result.**

**Acknowledgements: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! **

**Special Agent Orange: You give me far too much credit. While it's true that Activision forced Troika games to shove their product out before it was ready, I would never be arrogant enough to think that my story is **_**that**_** good. Thank you, my Czech friend (yes, I did look up the coordinates you listed in your profile.)**

**Rednightmare: I hope I can keep impressing you with each new chapter. Don't sell yourself short: my writing has vastly improved thanks to you. I suppose that would be inevitable when I'm being proofread by the best writer on FF. :)**

**Claqueur: Thank you for your praise! I definitely appreciate your appreciation of the dryer scene – took a bit of a creative leap to come up with that one. I also really appreciate your observations about Lucius: I try my hardest to make him a consistent, reliable character, since any flaws in my portrayal of him would pretty much render my story no good, seeing as how he's the main reason people keep reading my story instead of just replaying the game. Oh, and it doesn't count as a voice in your head if it's being projected by an outside force. So :P**

**Stavvberry: Thank you for your numerous reviews of my chapters. She claims that she sent reviews for chapters 10 and 11, but they were lost in the depths of cyberspace. Thanks for sending them. I only regret that I never got to read them :(. I would like to take this opportunity to mention a cool little interactive story she is working on with her friend, Miss Almond. They have a combined account, appropriately named Stavvberry and Miss-Almond. It's based around Battle royal. Basically, you can submit a character, and they will write it into their story. It's called "After School Special." Check it out!**

**Well, that's enough blabbing on my part. After all, you came here for Lucius, not me! Enjoy. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

I sat on the broken edge of the floor, legs dangling over the side. There was no light here but the few stars shining through the cloud cover – except for the nearby lighthouse, which would intermittently blast the area where I was sitting with a piercing beam. The light would scintillate off the locket that dangled from my hand every time it swung my way. _It is beautiful. Very intricate … I don't feel any aura from it. For all I can see, it's just a normal locket. In fact, I can't sense anything amiss in the whole house. The sense of disconnection is completely gone. And yet…_ yet I couldn't shake the feeling like I was still somehow off – like I was distinctly separate from myself. I was back to baseline, but it was like… _like baseline has always been off. I just never realized it until I was made to experience it so intensely and dramatically._

Still, at least the headache and nausea were gone. I reached up to my head, to the point that had been filled with pressure and pain in the middle of my forehead – it now felt only mildly itchy. It wasn't bleeding any more, but I could still feel something there. With a quick scratch, I felt something give and fall to the floor. It was a scab – in the shape of an eye.

I stared at it for a moment, finally receiving firm confirmation of my beliefs about what had just happened to me – _as though what I've just been through wasn't proof enough._ I stared at the locket as it swung back and forth, chain firmly in my hand. _How did this one little piece of metal create such misery? How did it induce such intense suspicion, such hateful jealousy? It's just inconceivable to me – that possessiveness, that burning doubt. Or is it, really? I mean, I never really had anyone to be controlling about to begin with. I was always just so desperate for any kind of affection. Maybe if I had found someone I would have been so scared of them leaving me that I would have become just as jealous. _

I thought back to the way the husband and wife must have been at first – back before this locket had imbedded itself within his mind like a seed and grown into something horrible. How long had his mind been composted into soil rich in suspicious doubt, a fertile ground in which the terrible seed had grown?It hadn't always been like this. They truly loved one another, once.

I thought back, to the smiling groom and the beaming bride.

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I irately pulled the final shard of glass out of my forehead. It came out with a sickening suction sound before clattering to the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief. The pain of having the glass imbedded in me wasn't nearly as bad as the feeling of my body trying to heal the injury – the fucking _itching!_ It was like my skull and flesh were trying to make me miserable in order to get me to pull the damn things out – which actually kind of made sense. Even so, the itching had been so bad that I had actually wiggled one particularly large shard back and forth in my skull in order to scratch that infernal misery before pulling it out.

I prepared a nasty kick for the picture frame that had provided me with my itchy unpleasantness. My foot was about to kick the wooden frame, when something about it pointed itself out to me. I don't know exactly what it was… but I knew that it was distinct and separate from the energy that pervaded the rest of the room. I felt like the hateful force of the spirit had been a solid mass when I entered, with substance and form – but in attacking me it had dissipated itself. It was now a general atmosphere in this place – one with everything here: the rummaged room, the scratched walls, the simple demand that I get out that was carved into the wall, everything – except for this one picture. I bent down and picked it up, examining it.

It was a couple – newlyweds. The man was looking at his wife with a blind adoration that was both sweet and a bit overwhelming. She was jubilant – the look on her face spoke volumes. This was the fulfillment of a dream, everything she could hope for. It was almost perfect enough to make me think it was some kind of filler picture – the kind that comes with the frame when you buy it. But these emotions were complete and genuine – which was probably why they were intense nearly to the point of creepiness. I say nearly because it was so heartfelt and positive that one couldn't help but feel a certain vicarious joy by looking at the picture. Well, until one thought back to what this picture probably was of – and how that marriage probably ended.

Even so, I sensed a power emanating from this object – an aura coming from this artifact. I decided to keep it with me. Looking around the room, I neither saw nor sensed anything else worth paying attention to. I walked out of the room, into the surreal intersection of influences.

I felt a strange irritation in my head – like my ears were ringing, but it was my whole head that was experiencing the sound. I felt the photo vibrating in my hand – and I felt it moving, slipping out of it. I moved my hand forward to catch it, grabbing onto it firmly – only to feel it pulling me forward, attracted by some force. I slowly moved with the pull, trying to figure out the source of this strange phenomenon. I felt an equilibrium establish itself – not only did I no longer feel the picture pull in any direction, but I felt a push when I tried to move it anywhere else. I held the photograph there, not really sure what I should be doing. It began vibrating with increasing frequency. I jerked my hand down instinctually. It now felt strangely… lighter. I hefted it further upwards, with a very minimal effort. I had no idea what was going on, but I suddenly wanted this thing out of my hand. I was granted my wish when I pulled my hand away from the wooden frame, watching it drop – in very slow motion. So slow that it felt like time had become lethargic – like everything was moving through thickening molasses. And then, as thought the molasses had hardened, the fall of the photo was halted. It simply hung there, suspended and spinning. It began to spin faster and faster, and I saw a thread begin to form – a single glowing white line blasting through the floor and ceiling out from the photograph. I felt something click – understood intuitively that somehow essences had fit together.

It was a fascinating arrangement, but one which didn't seem to help me any. In fact, my entire time here, in this section and the rooms adjacent to it, seemed to be completely pointless. Still…_ maybe I'm missing something here._ I focused on my new sense, pushing past the now-familiar distractions coming from my forehead. I still couldn't see anything outside the curtain. I stared at the picture, watching it spin pointlessly, gaining nothing from either it or the beam blasting upwards out of it. With a sigh, I let my head fall back and prepared to let Auspex go. I was stopped by a strange sight – remarkably subtle at first, to the point that I only noticed subconsciously that something was off, but it once I realized what I was seeing that it became incredibly obvious.

The ceiling was transparent. Well, translucent would be a better way to describe it. Its transparency increased the harder I concentrated. I saw a hallway above me – nothing particularly noticeable about it. But beyond it, past the ceiling in that hallway, I saw the place the beam was headed to –a great nexus of lines, radiating out from a central, glowing point. It was bright, but barely visible – it was highly obscured by the intervening ceilings. I stared directly at it, focusing, pushing, willing myself to gleam some bit of understanding from the central source of this strange energy, pulling myself into the bubble, refusing to feel the nausea or the pain or the hunger. I saw the walls fade away and disappear, leaving only vague, ghostly outlines. All that was real, all that was solid, was the great light shining above me, and the glowing pillar beneath it.

Lines started coming out of the glowing point, the way they do when one squints while staring directly at a bright light source. I saw them extend, further and further… but one was clearer than all the others. It began to bend downwards, streaking towards the ground. I followed it with my eyes, seeing it clearly through the shimmering curtain, through walls, through everything. I saw it impact a point level with me. The point began glowing brightly. I continued to focus on it, moving forwards carefully, keeping my eyes on the endpoint of the arc at all times. It was a weird feeling – like the way you feel when finally solving a 3D eye puzzle and you just keep staring at it, and the picture is all you can see, and everything else is blurry, and you lose all perspective. I stumbled forward, oblivious to everything but the line of light, which was white, but also rainbow colored, or rather all colors at once, scintillating and changing based on how you look at it… only it was always solid white at the same time.

I hit something. I barely felt it. It did distract me, however, and the transparent world shimmered back into view even as the lines faded – but only for a moment. I renewed my concentration and pushed on, now aware that I had to turn left and avoid the wall in front of me – only to run into the balcony. I stumbled back, the actual hotel and the world of lines swimming in front of my eyes, overlapping each other. That's when I saw her.

She stood there, forlorn, black hair draped over her shoulders, white dress hanging down over her feet, which were floating about a foot off the ground. She was translucent. Silver and gold aura-smoke sputtered upwards off of her, swirling around the glowing line that fed into the top of her neck like an extension of her spinal cord. She stood at the spot where the thread intersected the ground, at my intended destination – she was the source of the glowing I had seen. I moved onward, head swimming, no longer distanced from the uncomfortable sensations of my body but refusing to let the vision go. As I approached, she raised her arm and pointed to a nearby door. A bright line, like the one connecting her to the nexus, reached out from her finger. It was red, with stripes of white moving through it. It was surrounded by the silver and gold smoke. The chord separated into five parts, and the aura took on the shape of a hand. It reached out and turned the handle, opening the door. With that last act, the chord-hand whipped back into the woman, who arched her back in pain, before her neck-chord whipped up, pulling her into itself, collapsing her. She was now a mass of aura, flying upward as the chord whipped back to the nexus. Trying to watch it gave me this sense of vertigo, as though I was about to fall upwards. I felt like gravity was now pulling in opposite directions for my body and my soul, like they were being torn apart…

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I felt the wind blow against my face, pulling me back to reality.

I smiled at that. _What had Serena called it? "The fabric of what you would call 'reality' is thin here."There's a whole universe, just hiding behind this one. Serena had tried to explain, but there really are no words that make it all comprehensible. Either you've experienced it, you've been inside it, or you've got absolutely no grasp of the phenomenon. _The awareness that I would never be the same after this experience began to sink in. In a way, I had undergone a change almost as great as becoming a Kindred. Or rather… it was more like I was being made consciously aware of what it really meant to be a Kindred. I still wasn't sure how I felt about it all. I had always wanted raw, uncensored knowledge, but I was starting to grasp why our minds blanked out so much, why our third eyes were closed. I certainly didn't want to be exposed to that much truth nonstop. Even so… I was glad that I had been given a chance to experience such unadulterated understanding for a brief time. I felt like I had grown, like my third eye was at least capable of opening itself now.

The locket swung back and forth on its chain, rhythmically, repetitively, soothingly. I followed its hypnotic motion with my eyes. I followed its hypnotic motion with my _eye._ I felt the pressure return, but it wasn't fierce or painful like before. In fact, that slight pressure was quite comforting now. I felt myself slipping away again, back into the mists of memory…

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I came back from unconsciousness into pain.

My forehead was _throbbing_. I couldn't remember what had happened. That woman… and the aura, and… had I been dreaming? When I passed out, I felt like I had passed out of my body, out of my mind. I thought back, trying to remember what I had seen – but it was like trying to remember a receding dream right after waking up.

_I stood upon a pinnacle. I looked out and saw a world in flux. The landscape was shrouded in fog. The ground was a sea of undulating mud tossed in a storm. Screaming faces and limbs trashed within the chaos of the unsteady earth. Aural entities flew and danced and screamed in the broken sky, and I realized the fog was thousands of spirits. There was no light source, yet all was illuminated. There was a terrible wailing all around. There was a great hole in the sky, towards which all were climbing. I was right next to the hole – all I had to do was reach up and touch it. I felt hands pulling me down, saw arms coming out of the muddy pinnacle, trying to drag me into the ground. I saw spirits begin swarming towards me, heard them whispering, "Cheater! You were supposed to be with us, to suffer here! Why did you get to stay?" I felt them choking me, suffocating me, and I felt myself being pulled down by the bodies as they tried to use me as a ladder to escape into the void above. With a surge of superhuman strength, I overcame their grasping desperation and pulled myself up, struggling to reach the hole, and when I touched it I –_

I shook my head. I sat with my back to the balcony, staring at the open door, breathing heavily. I wasn't about to just charge into whatever path had been laid before me. Not until I had a chance to collect my thoughts. _I don't know if I'm hallucinating vividly, or if reality is unraveling. Or better yet, maybe both at once. It's impossible to get your bearings here. What was that place? Were those spirits? The envious dead? It was strange. I felt like… like I belonged there. And – it's strange, but I feel out of place here. I keep feeling more and more uncomfortable in my own skin – in this corpse._ I stared at my hands, slowly flexing my fingers, wondering how exactly I was doing that. The muscles can't be contracting – they would generate heat, they would require oxygen and glucose. Yet my fingers bend. The nerves that send the signals that would order the muscle cells to contract must be dead by now. Yet I will myself to move, and I move. _Do my dead cells temporarily come to life when I want them to? Or is my body a puppet, dancing on the end of invisible strings that I pull unconsciously? _Suddenly, the pain, nausea, dizziness, and hunger were strangely comforting – my bodily sensations made me feel thoroughly grounded. Even my beast, which was growling angrily at me for my waste of blood and for putting us in danger, now seemed like a familiar old friend – even if he was the kind of friend who'd most likely cause you to end up in prison.

I let my head fall into my hands. I felt my cold flesh against my forehead, but I couldn't help but imagine that the feeling was being relayed to me through some kind of remote readout. _Is this sensation real? Or am I simply so fixated on the concept that I'm making it seem real to myself? If only there were some way I could objectively, quantitatively measure this stuff… but everything seems so subjective here. If only I had some academic understanding, some context to put this all in… but I suppose if I had read about this stuff in some manual or tome I really wouldn't have grasped it anyway. Maybe this is for the best – I experience it directly, and then hopefully soon I'll have a chance to talk to someone who gets this stuff, and I'll know what questions to ask then. In the meantime… task at hand, Lucius. Task at hand._

I looked into the room. It was dark – I couldn't make out anything but black, even with my superhuman sight. I knew that I could activate Aupex to see clearly, but my hunger was becoming real fierce. I pulled myself up by the balcony. Peering inside, I searched my pockets for some source of light I could use, reminding myself to get a flashlight from Tripp's later. I found the lighter that the clubber outside of The Asylum had given me, which I had apparently pocketed. _A Zippo, too. Very nice._ I flicked it on and proceeded into the room, observing it with the aid of my sputtering illumination source. I noticed that it wasn't actually dark – the walls were just blackened. It was then that I realized that the entire room had been completely burned. I wondered if this was the work of the spirit, or if this had happened normally. The whole place smelt like a pit of charcoal. The only furnishings in the room were a pair of charred, metal bed frames. I peered through the darkness, trying to figure out what that spirit of the woman was trying to show me. I felt like I could trust the woman – after all, she had plenty of reason to hate the primary spirit I was trying to exorcise, if my guess about what had happened here was correct. _Is she aware of what I'm trying to do? Probably. I get the feeling emotions and intentions kind of bleed out into public here. Well, I suppose if I was in her place I would want to escape from this situation. Though I wonder… is she just going to end up in that place I saw? Or is that just where the damned end up going? Or, again, was that even real? Task at hand._

I was just about ready to turn on Auspex again when I nearly fell flat on my face. I had stepped onto a flimsy board, which bucked under my weight, causing me to stumble forward. I managed to keep my feet and get off the board. Looking over it, I realized that it had broken in the middle and was now bent, indicating that there was no floor under it. Curious, I picked it up, only to see that there was a gaping hole in the floor. Looking down, I saw a bar in the room below. It occurred to me then that this was the room on the other side of the bolted door I had gone to right when I entered the hotel. _What was the woman trying to show me in there?_ I contemplated the wisdom of jumping down with no way back up, then figured that I could probably just unbolt the door and head back out to the entrance foyer that way. I leapt through the hole.

The bar was well-lit and well-stocked. _Too bad I can't have anything but blood any more._ I felt a twinge of regret over the loss of that particular indulgence. I hopped over the bar and found the door I had first seen the woman through. I turned the lock and unbolted the door. Sure enough, on the other side there was the little mini bar I had hopped over earlier. _Makes sense. They could serve liquor in the lobby, but they would lock up and close at the end of the night, brining the booze into the main bar._ I smiled at the discovery of this mundane little detail. It had been far too long since I had seen anything that was so… normal. Stopping to think of all the madness I had experienced here, I was quite tempted to just walk out of this house, right then and there. _Where would I go? Anywhere. Just walk away from all this. Yeah, and end up finding something even more terrible than this entity. At least I seem to be getting some handle on this devil I know._ I turned back to the room.

I leaned on the bar with my elbows, looking over the room. It was filled with café tables and had rather pleasant mood lighting. Overall, it possessed a rather nice ambiance. I imagined I had some strange connection to the old bartender who had sat here, serving the patrons of this place, soaking up their miseries. Had he served the people who now haunted this place? Had he any concept of what was going to happen? Maybe he had tried to warn management, who told him to stop worrying so much. Or perhaps he had simply kept his unease to himself, respecting bartender-patient confidentiality. Did he die here? Or had he escaped, and spent many years in regret that he'd never said anything? Was he still alive? I suddenly wished that I could summon him and commiserate here for awhile.

Looking around to try and still my regret, I noticed an old, partially burnt newspaper on the bar counter. Picking it up, I read the headline: "Ocean House Hotel Burned by Arsonist!" Looking over the front page article, I came to realize that the fire had clearly been caused by the father. Police had found the body of a young boy and girl in the basement of the hotel, and were about to question the parents when the fire had started. They never figured out whether the father or the mother had committed the murders, labeling it an unsolved murder-suicide. _Well, I think I've solved that particular mystery._

Putting down the paper, I sighed at the whole, nonsensical brutality of it all. _Why exactly would someone murder their children and wife? Why burn this place down? Why haunt this abandoned building? What exactly would drive a person to end up as a twisted, vengeful spirit like this? _In answer to my questions, I felt an electric energy fill the room, felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I burned a bit of blood to give myself some insight. The pressure, pain, and nausea were now thoroughly outweighed by the hunger growling up from within me, but I continued to push past it, needing answers. I saw a trail of brown aura-smoke leading from the door, where a vague outline of the woman was visible in the same brown, like a small remnant of what I had seen when I first entered. The trail ended at a small box in the wall on the other end of the bar, which was filled with the dirty smoke. The smoke disappeared the instant I let go of the Auspex. It looked to be a service elevator of some kind, most likely designed to send food up and dirty dishes down. I peered into it. _No… no fucking way. You have got to be kidding me._

"_Shhh, my childe. Descend, and answers shall be yours. I have been to the nexus that you witnessed, and if my understanding is correct, you may get a chance to… ah, but no point in getting your hopes up over a remote possibility. You have two choices. Walk out that door and abandon your responsibilities, or take up the mantle of a mature Kindred and complete the task assigned to you."_

I felt her depart as suddenly as she had come. _Goddamn it, Serena. Okay, okay. Let's do this._ I crawled into the confined space, barely able to fit when curled up into the fetal position. I reached outside the small box and hit the switch next to it on the wall, pulling my hand back in before the downward motion of the cart could crush it. When the small enclosed space began slowly descending, I was suddenly stricken with a tense panic. I was closed in on all sides. _What if I get stuck? What if I end up trapped here? Oh god, what a fucking way to go. No, no, Serena told me to come here, she knows it's safe._ I performed the calming ritual, entering the bubble, ending my breathing.

I felt the elevator stop. I could only see wall in front of me. _Okay, don't panic. There's probably an exit on the other side. You just can't see it because there's no room to turn around here. Start backing up slowly… okay, yeah, there's a square hole in the wall. Now, carefully put your feet down, and… there you go._ I stepped out of the confined transport, breathing a sigh of relief despite my calming exercises.

Turning around, I was immediately assaulted by powerful sixth sense sensations. This place felt remarkably like the room where I had found the picture: filled with the malevolent presence, but it was even stronger here. Like in that room, there was one thing, one artifact that was distinct from that presence. I carefully stepped forward, telling my beast to be on the lookout.

_**You know, you could use that Auspex thing to keep a lookout yourself.**_

_Wouldn't that mean burning more blood? _

_**Fine, I'll keep an eye open. I smell blood somewhere around here, though. I know it…**_

_Hey, if you find any, let me know._

I carefully looked around the dust and rust-coated kitchen. I could see shelves full of dishes and utensils, stovetops and ovens, sinks full of dishes waiting to be washed. It looked like it had been rapidly abandoned. If not for the dusty and rusty signs of long disuse, I could believe that the cooks had simply stepped out for a break and would be back at any moment. Even so… there was no escaping that malevolence that filled the air like static electricity, just waiting for the right opportunity to discharge. I walked carefully around, afraid to touch anything, trying to sense the one aberration in the room. My eyes settled upon it. A red book, partially burned, resting upon a table.

I took it up carefully in my hands and began to read. I skipped ahead to the final entries.

… … … … … … … …

05/30/58 – Just arrived, here at the Ocean House. We have a weeklong vacation here in Santa Monica, and Ed has booked us a room for the hotel's grand opening. It's a wonderful place, almost magical. The children have been swimming all afternoon.

05/31/58 – The first two days have been almost perfect, except that Ed can't seem to stop asking about the locket I received from my mother. He seems to think it was sent to me by some other admirer. Ed can be sweet, but sometimes his jealousy can get the better of him. Ever since he found out he wasn't my first boyfriend back in high school, he's just been so possessive. I remember when my ex came by my house when Ed was around. I was grateful that Ed scared him off for good, but the hate and ferocity with which he'd beaten the poor boy… Mother told me it was just because he was so young, that he would calm down once we were married and got older. The "passion of youth" she'd called it. Still, lately he's been so easily angered. I'm sure it's just the stress of his new job. This vacation will fix things up. Hopefully he'll feel better tomorrow.

06/01/58 – Sun is out today, not a cloud in the sky. Ed seems a little on edge, keeps guessing who my "new boyfriend" is. Silly Ed. Just calm down and enjoy our vacation!

06/03/58 – There was a picnic for the hotel guests this morning… quite a grand affair. Ed is still in a dark mood. I don't know what I can do to assure him he is my one and only. I brought our wedding picture with us, and keep it next to our bed all the time, but even that won't help. The only time he seemed to brighten up was when he was speaking to the groundskeeper. Boys and their tools…

06/04/58 – We only have two days left, and thank god we are going home. Ed won't speak to me or the children, and I've found him more than once in the bathroom, holding the locket and staring at it. I'm afraid he's suffered some sort of breakdown. I've told him we can go home, but he just shakes his head. He won't look at me. I just want to go home.

06/05/58 – Ed left early this morning, and I haven't seen him since. If I haven't seen him in an hour, I'm going to call the hotel manager. Against my better wishes, Ed. Jr. went to look for him downstairs in the basement. I'm going to send Tiffany down to fetch him if he doesn't come right back.

Like I thought, Ed Jr. managed to get lost. I've sent Tiffany down after him, with instructions to come right back if she can't find him. I'm going to call the hotel manager. What a stressful ending to a ruined vacation.

I'm writing this while huddled in the service elevator. Ed has gone crazy. I went to look for the kids after calling the manager, and I saw him… covered in blood, screaming about how we'll be together forever and he'll never let me go. Oh god, what have you done Ed? I ran upstairs but he came after me, looking like some kind of monster… I ran into the bar and bolted the door behind me, but he has an ax and he's breaking through. I ran into the elevator to get away… oh god I don't know what to do! I'm going to try and get out. I'm leaving this diary here in case I don't make it. If anyone finds this, call the police. I think my children have been murdered by my husband!

… … … … … … … …

I stared down at the final words, receiving firm proof of my suspicions. _That sick fuck…_

_**Get down!**_

I dropped to the floor, barely dodging out of the way of a pot that had been hurled at me at high velocity. It smashed into the wall with such force that it collapsed halfway into itself. I whirled around, kicking in Auspex, trying to figure out what I was up against. I was not prepared for what I saw. There were strong, fierce tongues of red aura-flame _everywhere_, next to almost every object. My beast and I screamed in silent terror. The next moment, the room exploded into madness.

At first it was only two or three objects being hurled at me at once, but they kept coming in a steady stream. I leapt forward, got to my feet, and started running with no direction in mind, just trying to move, to avoid being hit. I heard clattering behind me. There was only a corner ahead. I turned around.

Every fucking object in the room was hurling itself around randomly at high speed, as though they had become filled with the raw anger of the spirit. Suddenly, a butcher knife flew right at my neck. I jumped to the side. The knife imbedded itself in the wall. I looked around desperately, trying to find a way out. _Shit. Door's on the other side of that madness._ I was about to look around again, when-

_**Duck!**_ I obeyed. I was trying to figure out how to get out when – _**Grab that thing!**_ I reached out without thinking, snatching something brown in my peripheral vision.

_What the fuck? Why did you have me grab this cat?_

_**Blood. You owe me. Drink the fuck up if you want more warnings. Hit the deck!**_

I flattened myself as a pan filled with frying oil flew right through the space where my head had been. The cat hissed in fear. It began clawing at my hand with hateful vigor, trying desperately to escape. I didn't have time to think it over. I pulled the squirming animal up to my face. It screeched at me in absolute terror. I opened my mouth and leaned down. The thing bit my goddamn tongue. I cried out, but was distracted a moment later by a fork embedding itself in the back of my neck. Desperate to get this done with and get the hell out of here, I bit down in its furry neck.

I felt the blood flow into me, revive me from my fear and hungry misery. The only sensations or memories I experienced were raw fear, and also… I felt a strange resonance with this creature, with its raw, predatory instincts. The warmth of the lifeblood was revitalizing and pleasurable.

It only lasted a brief moment, though. I tried to throw the corpse aside, only to nearly have it rip my tongue off. I pried its lower jaw open and tossed it aside, spitting up fur and the taste of its mouth. _French kissing a cat. Add that to the list of shit I've done that I never imagined I would in a million years._ My introspection was halted by a strange realization… _the noise has stopped._ I looked up. The various kitchen implements were frozen in midair. I sensed that the spirit was experiencing shock right now. _Ha! I imagine that did look pretty weird, even to that psycho._

_**Now! Run for the door while it's distracted!**_ In a single motion, I pushed myself onto my feet and began running forward, dodging the suspended metal objects. I was most of the way through when the stuff all began flying directly at me. _**Dive!**_ I dived forward at the perfect time – although I still got hit with plenty of blunt metal objects, most of it flew overhead. Most importantly, I missed being singed with by a jet of flame that blasted out of the stove. I pushed myself up, being careful to keep away from the flaming jet. Even so, as I leapt over the pile of stuff that had been hurled at me earlier, I felt the heat from the stove singing the side of my face. I felt the beast scream within me, felt my own terror echo it, but I knew I had to stay calm. I fumbled frantically with the doorknob, knowing through my beast that there was a motherload of stuff flying my way, much of it sharp. I shoved the door open and bolted through, slamming it behind me. A single knife made it through the gap before I managed to close it, embedding itself in my shoulder.

I screamed as I fell back from the door, before wrenching the thing out and throwing it to the ground. I then reached around behind me and pulled fork out of my neck. I heard a guttural screaming coming from the other side of the door. "_Give it back!"_ _Give what back?_ It was only then that I realized that I was still holding the diary in my hand. I felt… gratitude radiate off it. I even felt a slight force from the book, as though it was being repelled by the door – as though it wanted to get as far away from that spirit as possible. _Poor woman, stuck with that insane Ed guy. What an abusive fucking relationship. He's so insanely clingy, he won't even let her go in death._ I shoved the diary in Lily's backpack. _Might be useful later._

I looked around the room I was in. It was some kind of pantry – and it was starting to get hot in here. _The stoves, of course. _I needed an exit. I saw a vent on one of the walls – big enough to climb into. I pulled out my tire iron, wedged one end into the grate, and pulled. It ripped itself off of its screws. I extricated the tire iron from the twisted metal grate, shoved it in my waistband yet again, and crawled into the vent. It was a tight fit, but far better than that service elevator.

I made my way to the end of the long, right-angled tube and crawled out. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. It seemed like a small, enclosed dead-end. I looked up and realized that I was in an elevator shaft right as I heard the cable snap, right as I saw the several-ton metal box start hurling towards me. If I still had a heart it would have stopped then and there. If I still had a working adrenal gland it would have jumped into overdrive. As it was, the sight of my final death bearing down on me caused the beast to completely take over, burning blood to activate blood adrenaline. Filled with a supernatural speed and strength, everything seemed to slow down. Completely guided by my beast, we swung our head down, trying to find an escape. _**Alcove, over there.**_ We leapt forward, feeling the pressure build as the elevator compressed the air in the shaft, knowing that our death was mere moments away. We flew forward, faster than any mortal could have gone – as fast as sound. The box was mere feet above us. We took one final leap and flew directly into the alcove, right as we heard the crescendo of the crash, right as we felt the air smash us forward due to the passing of the metal behemoth.

I was panting, snarling, staring at the crushed box in terror and relief. I felt the beast slide back out of the control seat, but not too far. It was snarling at me in terror and bitterness, shoving my hunger in my face. Any blood I had gained from the cat had just been burned off by that particular feat. I still felt the blood adrenaline in me – feeling like my blood was actually flowing in my veins, like I was able to experience some facsimile of being alive. I was really and truly grateful for the fact that I had escaped oblivion. Suddenly, all my earlier complaints about how confusing and disturbing this place was seemed trivial. I was also really and truly grateful to my beast. Without him, I would have died a few times over. _**Yeah, well, try and remember this moment the next time you reject what I have to say, or decide I'm you enemy. We're in this together. Now let's find us some damn blood.**_ With a smile and a nod, I brought my panting under control. I looked around and found a ladder. I climbed up, deciding that I should definitely reconsider my earlier stance towards my partner in unlife.

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I smiled at that memory. _Strange… where did he go? He's been completely silent since… since I found this thing. And the hunger that was driving me wild has quieted down tremendously. I feel like… like I'm completely fine, like I have no vampiric urges. When did that start? _I thought back. It was the moment I'd stepped into this room, the moment I'd been able to see this locket, the moment I'd set eyes on her…

I stared down at the metal necklace. The closer I had come to it, the more reality had thinned. Once I had touched it, it seemed like I had been sent firmly back into this world. Had I broken the spell? Or was it simply that I was so close to the source of the energies that I was now immune to them – like being in the eye of a hurricane? I thought about testing that hypothesis – about setting the locket down, stepping back, and seeing what happened. I decided against it – I'd gone through far too much to risk losing that thing. _Besides, I probably wouldn't summon that room back. Most likely I'd just have to deal with a very pissed of Ed, who's no doubt convinced himself that I'm his wife's secret admirer – despite the fact that I was born twelve years after he burned this place to the ground. In fact, I should probably get out of here before he finds some way to start making trouble for me again._

I got myself up, put the locked in my pocket, and started walking out of the room. I made sure to keep in contact with the locket at all times, since if my "eye of the storm" theory was correct, I may have to be in physical contact with the source of the "high umbral permeability" if I wanted to avoid any more chaos. Right as I was about to walk out, I turned around and gave the room one more look. I couldn't help but feel nostalgia well up inside me. This place… this place had been a gift. It had given me one last chance to experience that which should have been denied to me forever. I silently thanked Serena and whatever forces ran this and any other universe for sending me to this place. I turned and departed.

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I hopped through the open elevator doors into a hallway on the third floor.

I looked around, a feral caution filling me, my eyes rapidly scanning for any new threats, nose searching for any trace of sustenance. I found neither, and so took a moment to examine my surroundings. It was a well-decorated hallway, showing no signs of damage. I looked into a nearby room, but I neither smelled blood nor sensed anything amiss. I turned around, trying to figure out my next course of action. I followed the hallway to a t-junction, only to find myself in another swimming intersection of energies. The place calmed me once again, taking the edge off the hunger and disconnection. There was a faint glowing line running through the center of the intersection. I stood for a moment, trying to figure out what I was going to do now. I was given my answer in the form of a tug I felt coming from the backpack I was wearing. I unzipped it, trying to figure out what was going on. I felt the diary pulling with enormous force towards the line, and I knew what to do. I placed the book right through the glowing thread, taking care not to touch it myself – I had no idea what it was or what touching it would do to me. The diary began floating and spinning like the picture had before it. I heard a loud humming begin, saw the line thicken into a glowing pillar about 3 inches in diameter. I looked up and saw the ceiling turn transparent without the aid of Auspex – which was good, because I was far too hungry to be activating that unless absolutely necessary.

I saw the glowing nexus once again, lines splayed out in all directions, connecting it to all parts of this building. It was blinding me with its light – but more importantly, filling me with a profound sense of understanding. I felt like I could look into it and grasp the true structure of this place. The picture was below me, adjacent to the rooms they had stayed in – it represented the true love that had been lost. Beneath that was the intersection in the basement, where the children had all realized their father was mad before being murdered, where the wife had come to recognize what her husband had become before fleeing into the elevator – it represented raw terror. Here, where the wife's diary had made its home, was the place where she had been murdered – it had now become the avatar of the truth of what had happened, a truth that had been buried in the ashes of this place. Above, at the source of the energies binding this place, was the place the fire had been started – it represented vindication, for the guilt of the father now as firmly established as the innocence of the mother. Through that vindication, the prison would be opened, the spell would be broken, the wife and children would be set free, Ed would be sent to hell, and all would be made right again. I knew that the object I sought could be found above me. I also understood that the pillar was not, in fact, perfectly geometrically aligned in "real" space – but I was also given significant insight into the way that the other world worked, and the way it could intersect this one. My head began to swim, and I pulled my eyes away from the light – cutting off both the revelations and the dizziness. I blinked, seeing the afterimage of the nexus burned into my eyes, trying to clear my head. I pulled myself into the bubble, trying to figure out how I could reach this nexus. The way was made clear. _To the right._

I walked out of the shimmering curtain, only to find the hallway in front of me was blocked by the collapsed roof. Unsure what to do, I proceeded the only way available to me – through a nearby door into a hotel room. I found the place covered in drywall dust, the ceiling and walls cracked open in numerous locations, and there were several wooden beams that had collapsed into the room. Looking over the situation, I realized I could crawl up to the top floor using the beams. Smiling at my ingenuity, I carefully pulled myself along it on all fours, excited at the prospect of taming this spiritual chaos and being done with my task.

I froze when I reached the top floor. _**Fire! Run!**_ It was all I could do to maintain calm, to finish my climb up to the top of the hotel rather than fleeing back the way I came. The entire far wall was engulfed in flames. And not just any flames, either. The fire was a pulsating blue color, but blended with green, creating pulsating spots of wild colors. I probably would have considered it beautiful if not for the fact that I was struggling to overcome panic induced by mortal terror. In a small corner in the back of my mind, my sixth sense made me aware of the fact that in strengthening the nexus, in making it accessible to me, I had also made Ed stronger, fuelling his jealous, psychotic, murderous rage.

The fire began to spread. I wanted to let my beast take over, but he was screaming for us to run. I forced myself back into the bubble in a single moment. I burned nearly all the blood I had left and felt the boost of power hit my nearly-empty veins yet again. I leapt over a nearby burned-out bed frame and bolted for the only door out of the room. The handle wouldn't turn. I kicked it open in desperation. I sprinted into the hallway. Flame belched out of the room I had just been in. I leapt forward and began running. I reached an intersection. The nexus was right around here, I could _feel_ it. Spectral flames were all around me now. The beast and every instinct within me was screaming, terrified at the sounds of burning and crashing that surrounded me and were all but deafening – but I held the emotional barrier firmly in place, sensing the nexus' power from within my personal void.

_Left._ I sprinted down the hall, forcing myself past the flames that were licking up the walls. I saw a set of double doors before me, and knew what I sought was within. Right as I neared them, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a terrible figure that appeared out of congealed flames in front of me.

It was the figure of a man, made out of black flame rippling with crimson. He stared at me with malevolent, green, flaming eyes. He pointed a finger at me accusingly. He opened his mouth in a wordless scream that came from the utmost depths of madness, projecting a screeching rage that terrified me to my very core. Everything within me told me to run. My emotions were a raging hurricane of passion, whipping my solid bubble into a writhing froth. Only Serena's instructions allowed me to hold fast to my reason. I focused on her demand that I "take up the mantle of a mature Kindred." I filled myself with my primal desire to gain her approval. I steeled myself. I felt pain and heat searing me from behind, and knew what I had to do.

I charged forward, straight into the abominable avatar of Ed. I passed through him without feeling the slightest pain, and barreled into the double doors.

As the doors flew open, my vision began swimming, my bubble broke, and the pain and pressure in my forehead spiked beyond endurance. I stumbled forward, completely lost, confused, and dizzy. My disconnection with myself was heightened to an unimaginable extent, and I felt myself pass beyond myself as all bodily sensation faded away.

All of a sudden, for the first time since my embrace, I felt… normal. _Whole_. Hunger, beast, disconnection, pain – all had been wiped away. The crescendo of sound that had been deafening me had turned to silence. I looked up and found the room to be beautiful and pristine. It was filled with a vibrant, living light. I walked slowly forward, filled with a profound sense of calm and comfort, feeling like something was very off, but unable to tell what it was. I walked over to the far end of the room, feeling warmth shine down on my skin through the windows, and without knowing why tears began welling up in my eyes. I felt the way I had when… _When I found my old teddy bear at age twelve, the one my parents gave me when I was less than a year old, the one I had thought I'd lost forever. _I suddenly realized why I felt this way. I gasped in amazement, before closing my eyes and basking in the warm glow of the sunlight that was streaming through the windows.

"_Yes, you don't truly realize how beautiful it is until it's been taken away."_ I whirled around, and there she was. Serena. Floating above the floor, completely naked, her pale skin glistening in the warm light of the sun, her black shoulder-length hair flowing out behind her as thought she was underwater, her thin arms outstretched in a gesture of comforting embrace, her sharply angled face and thin lips formed into a beaming smile, and her green eyes radiating a profound love. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by the sight of her.

Her lips didn't move, but I heard her speak. "_Lucius, I can't tell you how proud I am of you right now. It's only your second night as Kindred – and you've already seen and overcome more than most fledglings experience in a decade. You held fast against the chaos and you've overcome terrible adversity, all while gaining profound, firsthand knowledge of the Umbra that many an elder would be jealous of. Oh, but I did choose well when I Embraced you."_

I looked up at her with a confused wonder. "Am I… is this… is this real? I mean, is this part of the other world, or am I dreaming, or…"

With a motherly smile, she put my fears and confusions to rest. "_There is another world, a mirror of our own: the Umbra. Above and below it, there is an Upper and Lower Umbra, which correspond roughly to common conceptions of Heaven and Hell. Of course, you should know by now that Euclidian spatial concepts of "up" and "down" don't properly apply in this place. I can also tell you that the actual 'Heaven' and 'Hell' are nothing like what most picture them to be, though I'm sure there are realms within them that correspond to those versions of consensual reality. As for whether you are dreaming – well, I'd say no, but dreams are a partial journey into the Umbra, though even the wisest can't truly determine how much of dreaming is the hallucinatory product of a mind at rest, and how much is an accurate reflection of the spirits journey through the other world._"

I stared up at her, trying to understand, trying to make her proud, trying to think of what it is that she would want me to say here. "What is this place? I mean, I know it's the umbra, but… how am I feeling the sun?"

Her smile warmed me more than the rays of the light of the world. "_It's a piece of a memory, sustained and made real through the force of emotion. It's time this façade was torn down. Here, in this new world I live in, I can finally feel the warm rays of golden life upon me… yet I have no body to feel it."_ She sighed. "_Lucius, I want to impart one final lesson onto you. I think that after this we may have to be apart for some time. I have to figure out a great deal more before I can survive in this world long-term, and it's clear to me that you can take care of yourself. You've more than earned the right to be a part of our clan."_ The pride in her eyes and her voice as she looked down at me and spoke warmed my heart to its very core – and I swear I felt it beat, just once, at her words. "_Every Kindred is born into a clan. It is a bloodline with shared physical characteristics. Like a family, or a race. You are of the clan Tremere. We are the scholars and mystical secret-keepers of the Camarilla. Above all, we take care of our own. Strauss, the Regent of the Tremere in Los Angeles, will be willing to show you kindness, though don't expect him to openly do anything that could call LaCroix's wrath down on our clan – the clan always comes first. If you want further answers, if you want more secrets – seek out your clan."_

I nodded, accepting her lesson, feeling filled with hope. "I understand, Serena. Thank you. Thank you so much for everything."

She gestured to a nearby object on an end table, which glowed in the sunlight streaming through the windows. "_It's time to finish your task. Here is the object you seek, the anchor of the nexus. Take it and free the spirits trapped here."_ I walked over to it, Serena beaming down at me from above. I gave her one last look, my heart swelling with genuine love and regret, not the echo of emotions that most Kindred experience when they say they feel something – because there, in that place, in that moment, I was truly _alive_ again for a brief moment. I looked down, knowing what I would find before I saw it. The locket. I grabbed the golden oval and brought it up to my eyes.

In a flash, the room was gone… replaced by a shadow of what it had been. The light was cut off, the pristine beauty of the place washed away… yet suddenly I found myself bathed in light. I looked up at the source of the brightness, which was temporarily blinding me, only to find that a lighthouse was blasting its beam through a missing wall. I stared out in wonder at the ocean beyond, realizing in a moment of profound truth that this vista was just as beautiful as the room had been, in its own way. I wandered over to the edge of the broken floor and sat down, overwhelmed by everything I had just experienced, and let my mind drift.

… -… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-… …-…

I hopped over the balcony railing, landing back in the entrance foyer. I heard a groaning coming from behind me, but I knew that Ed couldn't touch me while I had that locket. I turned around and gave this place one last look over, appreciating the architectural beauty as much as I did the profound, absurd tragedy of its destruction. I opened the front door and stepped out.

As soon as I left the premises the hunger began working its way back up to my mind. It was weak right now, like it was being broadcast through thick syrup, but I knew it would get worse. As I wandered over the sewer grate, licked my lips at the smell of rat blood that came wafting out. _Why the hell not? I'm starving._ I opened the manhole cover up.

I gave to locket one last look before descending. I realized that I hadn't inspected the inside. I unhooked the clasp and opened it up. There was an inscription carved on the inside.

"To my dear daughter Bella: Wishing you and Edward unending Happiness. Love, Mom"

I burst out laughing. All the controlling, abusive idiot had needed to do was open the object of his obsession up and her fidelity would have been proven.

_What a messed up pair those two made,_ I thought as I jumped back into the sewers.

.

.

.

**For those of you interested in understanding the Aural color schemes, here's a chart that outlines the meaning of the different Aura colors as perceived in Auspex. Remove the parentheses to make the link work.**

**www(.)patman(.)org(/)wod(/)disciplines(/)auspex(.)asp**


	13. Chapter 12: Interlude in D & B minor

**Thank you all very much for your positive feedback on the Ocean House Hotel section! I'm glad to see that you seem to have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm a bit pressed for time, so I'm going to have to thank everyone en masse, rather than individually. Don't think that doesn't mean I appreciate every review I get! You guys are all great. However, I do have one comment I have to respond to:  
**

**Flying Frog: Serena is utilizing a very interesting power. I assure you, it's totally within cannon... but I'm definitely not going to let you know what's going on yet!**

**Enjoy this little interlude between major events.  
**

**... ... ... ...  
**

I skulked through the dark streets, trying to find a way to escape from my own thoughts.

_Cognitive dissonance is a bitch,_ I mused to myself. If only I knew what I was supposed to be feeling. It would be great if I'd suffered and could feel self-pity or anger. It would be great if I'd achieved some great moral victory could and take comfort and pleasure in the exorcism of some terrible evil. Unfortunately for me, everything seemed to be terribly sublime. _I should feel supremely lucky and gifted for the opportunity to see my sire after her death, at the chance to feel the sunlight warm my skin after my change. So why do I feel the loss of these things more acutely than I ever have since my embrace?_ The darkness of the night suddenly felt like a miserable prison from which there was no escape. Try and walk into the light of day, and you will be struck down.

It was the most peculiar kind of melancholy, though – for when had I spend a moment of my time in life enjoying the "great outdoors" or basking in the light? I had practically shielded myself from the sun effectively enough that I could have nearly lived as a Kindred – only my commutes would have been deadly. I had been indoors at the office from nine to five, indoors after work, and only went out at night with Serena at the very end. Funny how very trapped I had felt in that life, not even realizing what kind of chains and constrictions I had been free of. _I simply traded one cell for another, one master for a new one, and a labor of monotonous misery for a desperate, violent struggle._

I couldn't help but smirk at my own self-pitying introspection. I reflected to myself that _philosophical contemplation doesn't really suit you, Lucius. But how the fuck do I make sense of all this? Why do I feel so apart from myself?_

I would discover, many years later, that all Kindred who achieve a certain age inevitably come to the realization that who they are was now entirely distinct from their physical form. It usually happened around the time one achieved Ancilla status. After consuming the life experiences of enough humans, it's simply inevitable that one begin to realize that something is fundamentally _off_ about one's new existence. It's just a matter of time before one comes to understand that their spirit is simply not as well integrated into their physical form as it is among the living. After all, the spirit had already left the body, only to be reattached in a mocking pantomime of the true relationship between body and soul.

Of course, anyone academically minded would immediately ask: what is it that connects the separated body and soul? The answer, like most answers to great questions, is incredibly difficult to fathom when you are looking for it, yet makes perfect sense and seems self-apparent once found. For clearly, _The Beast_ is the cord connecting the dead soul and the reanimated body. It is inherently physical in its urges, reminding one of the strength of bodily desires and physical passions, delighting in what one can do in the world, glorifying it to the point of worship. One can deal with this bestial cord by suppressing it and becoming a detached spirit for whom the body is little more than a puppet, by embracing it wildly and losing one's reason, or by trying to find some kind of balance between these two poles.

Of course, I had no way of understanding these things at the time. I hadn't yet learned to focus my sixth sense and disconnection in a way that would let me learn things outside of space and time. I was simply groping blindly through the shadows of the night. Nonetheless, I had been awakened to my own inherent _separateness_ from myself long before most Kindred were forced to acknowledge it. My own academic tendencies and the way my experiences with Serena had elevated Understanding into my own personal God were probably the only reasons my mind didn't crack under such an early revelation of such a strange means of existence. While I certainly didn't appreciate it at the time, this understanding of my own nature would prove to be pivotal to my survival in the nights ahead. So many unconsciously realized truths, so many instances of unnatural calm in the face of oblivion, would all be made possible by this one experience. Still, my early Kindred existence had a remarkably steep learning curve, and I was forced to grasp a great deal long before one normally would. In a way, I could have considered myself lucky that my learning process was so accelerated. Of course, that wouldn't have made the whole process any less miserable or dangerous for me.

I pulled a cigarette out of the pack I had bought at the nearby convenience store. The comfort it brought was as much from a reminder of my life as it was from the reminder of the way body and mind could be inextricably chained together. I had reached a point where the prospect of addiction was comforting rather than frightening. As I sucked on the death-stick, I decided that if I was going to do this, I may as well do this right. Holding in the smoke, I pounded my heart into post-mortem action as I walked, feeling the blood flow, feeling the chemicals drive along those biological highways. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling, enjoying the very physical sensations it brought to me. I opened my eyes and saw a pedestrian staring at me in confusion. I quickly started exhaling and pretending to cough, all while still pounding my chest. The guy's attentions drifted elsewhere, and I brought the cig back up to my lips, smoking as I wandered through the streets.

It felt good, having not only nicotine in my blood, but also having enough blood in me to circulate it around. Obviously I had picked up these cigarettes after seeing to my basic needs – I had burned off nearly all of my blood at the Ocean House Hotel.

… … … … …

The instant my feet hit the concrete of the sewers, the hunger came back upon me like a tidal wave, and my beast rushed out like a starving tiger released from a cage. The switch was as dramatic as night and day – I don't know what property of the locket and the hotel managed to silence all my bodily urges, but the instant that spell was broken I immediately became a starving animal. Thankfully, the water levels in the sewers had abated, so I leapt straight into the subterranean waterways. And there they were – wet, miserable, furry little blood-bags, swimming in the water, having been washed out of their lairs by the rain. I had ravenously grabbed the first one I saw and shoved my fangs right into it.

Ecstasy. Pure, satisfying joy – though the rat didn't have nearly as much blood as I wanted. Still, hunger makes for the best garnish. I tossed the body aside, then reached down and grabbed another rodent before the first one had hit the water. I proceeded through the sewers like that, hopping from rat to rat, leaping around from blood source to blood source with a reckless abandon and pure joy that came from a complete and absolute oneness with my beast – we could feed to our heart's content, unshackled by moral guilt. I felt a pure and complete joy – so pure it was almost innocent, like a child allowed loose in a candy store. Well, except for the fact that I was a undead predator jumping around the sewers, draining rats dry of their blood. Still, I do recall giggling while doing this exsanguinating, subterranean dance.

Unfortunately, the pure joy couldn't last forever. The more rats I drained, the less palatable they tasted, the less joy draining them gave me. It's like when you are so hungry you'll even eat terrible, unsanitary food – but about halfway through shoving it all down, after it started by tasting exquisite, you start to taste something else. Something disgusting. Some semblance of the taste of rot that your taste buds, in hungry desperation, had simply chosen to ignore and not convey to your mind. Suddenly, you take one more bite, and it's all you can do to force it down before you abandon the makeshift meal. (C'mon, if you've ever been through college, you know you've been there and done that.)

So when I had drained the last rat, I felt a bit of nausea well up deep within me. I stared down at the desiccated animal corpse, and something screamed in raw horror from the far back of my mind at the prospect of what I'd just done – some echo of the frail, disease-prone being I had once been. I silenced it with reason. _What's wrong with this? I was hungry. They tasted good when I drank them. Not in the mood for any more, though._

_**Agreed. Let's get topside and get some human blood in us. Now!**_

I smiled at the beast's impatience. _Hold on, we need to make ourselves presentable._ I wiped off the loose blood that had spilled all over my face using my sleeve. Looking at my sleeve, I then realized that I was incredibly lucky to have a shirt the color of blood. Licking the remaining blood off my teeth and lips, I then bent down and washed my face off using the sewer water. Again, some small instinct in the back of my mind had screamed in protest. I thought about its source for a moment, then chuckled. _Immune to disease, remember? Besides, after all that rain the water down here is probably as clean as the shit that comes out of the faucets._ I hopped out of the water, walked to a nearby ladder, and climbed out.

The manhole emptied into a dark back alley. I did my best to climb out quietly. Thankfully, the only occupant was a sleeping homeless man, who was leaning with his back to the wall. I crouched down, mouth salivating, beast quivering in excitement. I carefully moved over to the man, focused on remaining silent, becoming one with the shadows around me. I hovered over the sleeping figure, ready to pounce, to feed. _**Mmm… yes… let's drain this guy dry and then find someone else, and drain them, and just hop around the streets from bloodbag to bloodbag, the way we did in the sewers… only it won't ever get old… we can feel that good forever…**_

That caused me to stop right there. _Listen, man. Let's get one thing straight. I'm not killing this guy. I'm not killing anyone I don't have to. Just because I've decided I'm cool with you doesn't mean I'm abandoning my unlife plan or letting you run completely free. I mean, think about what you're proposing. How long do you think that would last before we ended up getting caught, or pissing off LaCroix or Therese for violating the Masquerade? How long until we end up hunted down and killed?_

_**Okay… but there's no reason why we can't drain this one dry.**_

_No, there's a very good reason why we can't do that. Because I'm not going to be a monster. Because I don't need to kill to survive. We're not going to kill this guy because I say we aren't going to kill anyone who isn't threatening us with death. And that's final. Now let's stop arguing and start feeding._

I plunged my fangs into the man's neck before the beast could respond. I felt the sweet lifeblood blast into my mouth, into my stomach, into my mind, into my soul. It was such a stark difference between the rat blood and this – there was just something that wasn't there in nonhuman blood. Some fundamental energy that one's spirit needed, without which one would simply become an animal – as though one needed an unending stream of human memories to remind oneself how to stay connected with one's humanity. I will say, from my own personal observations through the years, that anyone other than a Thin Blood who tries to subsist entirely on animals will inevitably be taken over by their beast.

His memories were fascinating. He'd been in Vietnam, where I saw long stretches of bored misery and brief flashes of horror and violence. I saw the animalistic brutality man could be dragged down into… and it made me want to avoid becoming something even more terrible. I saw the addiction he had fallen into after getting back to the States, jamming needles into his arm, pulling himself into a spiral of pleasure and need that had destroyed his life… and I became even more determined to keep my own urges and needs within my control. I saw the many institutions he ended up shuttled in and out of: prisons, hospitals, rehabs, mental institutions, homeless shelters… and I renewed my determination to remain free for the rest of my existence. I felt his life force ebbing away and pulled myself away from him.

I looked down at the tragic figure. _Life just railroaded right over him. And now he's going to end up in another institution, another hospital. Well, nothing to be done about it. _I licked the puncture marks, savoring the last little taste of blood. I stood up, feeling invigorated. It was only because of the fresh blood coursing through my veins that I heard it – small footsteps of someone trying to sneak away unnoticed. I turned around and saw her – an old woman carefully trying to walk away. Just as she was about to slip around a corner, she turned her head to look at me and the man I'd just drained, and her eyes widened when she realized I was staring at her. Her eyes said it all. _She saw what I did. She knows what I am._

I leapt forward, feet flying, instinct and reason coming together around a single goal: uphold the masquerade. She broke into an open run at the sight of me barreling forward. She disappeared around the building that the homeless man was sleeping on. I barreled around it two seconds later. I could see her sprinting forward ahead of me. I could have easily caught up to her if this was an open chase. The problem was, the alley opened into the street not too far ahead, just past a dumpster that filled up most of the alley, hiding what was going on in here from prying eyes. I couldn't say for sure that I couldn't catch her before she reached the street – but I couldn't say for sure that I could, either.

_Shit!_ I let the beast take over my body through my fear as I pulled myself into the bubble, that disconnection of myself from myself. As I said earlier, the Disconnection would prove very useful to the cause of my continued survival. I was able to achieve almost instant calm, even as I ran with a frantic energy fuelled by a fear I no longer needed to feel. I carefully analyzed the situation. The answer was obvious. I reached out with my mind, with the power of my blood. I entered into the woman's mind and put her into a trance, doing the best I could to wipe her memories – though the horror and the trauma of the situation made it all hard to force away. Ahead, I saw her stumble, propelled forward by her momentum and raw, residual fear – though she could no longer remember or comprehend why exactly she was running – there was just this vague sense of menace behind her. Even so, she slowed and stumbled.

My beast-propelled body leapt forward and landed on top of her, tackling her down like a cheetah taking down a gazelle. Like the feline predator, my teeth were at my prey's neck the instant they'd hit the ground. I felt a true and profound joy at what I'd done – I felt like a young tribal hunter that had truly taken down his first prey. That predatory pride merged directly into the pleasure of the blood as my fangs pulled it straight out of her artery.

The ecstasy of feeding was further heightened by the relief of knowing that I wasn't going to be killed by LaCroix for violating the Masquerade. In fact, at first I was in danger of being washed away on a wave of pleasure brought about by the combined forces of relief, predatory pride, and raw blood-satisfaction. However, as her life began flowing into my mind, they clicked with my own memories and helped me maintain self-control. Because this was the second woman I had ever fed on – and that made me think back to the first woman I had ever fed on. That, combined with the fact that my hunger had already been largely sated, helped me maintain control and save her.

My fangs were out of her even before she'd been mostly drained – I felt bad burdening her with medical costs on top of her already substantial burdens. I saw her life – a housewife who had too many kids for her and her husband to handle. She was poor, miserable, and working nights after taking care of her eight children during the day. She was just walking home – her miserable, run-down, overcrowded apartment was actually right here in the alley, barely ten feet away. She didn't know the man sleeping in the alley – she'd just seem me feeding right as she was nearly home. I looked down at her with pity. My beast had retreated back inside whatever lair in my mind he went to after being sated. It was now just me being left to deal with the repercussions of my actions.

Leaning in to lick her bite wound closed, I decided that I should do something for her. Picking her up, I carried her to the front door of her building. It was right near the T-junction where I had crawled out of the sewers. I realized then that she had been trying to make it to her home without being noticed by me. I dropped her next to the door, her limp form looking a bit pale, but no worse for the wear otherwise. I worried for a second whether or not she would remember anything – but the memories I'd absorbed made it clear that she would only do so in the vaguest way. As for the bum she had seen me drink – well, honestly, he'd be picked up by police or paramedics soon. I buzzed up to her room insistently, frantically. I then turned around and started quickly walking out of the alley before my victim's family came down and saw me. I reached the street, then looked back for a moment at my handiwork: two drained humans. Again, I felt a twinge of accomplishment. _I'm starting to get the hang of this. And with nobody dead, either._ I smiled and walked into the street, leaving the alley of my ascendance behind.

… … … … …

I flicked the burnt butt of my cigarette into a nearby sewer drain.

I pulled another cylinder out of the rectangular box and it up. _No health reasons to not chain smoke. Financial reasons, on the other hand… goddamn these things have gotten expensive since the last time I bought them!_ I thought back to the time I entered the shop. With my hunger and beast silent, I had been left with my own thoughts and reflections, and I wanted something bodily and familiar. Almost as though summoned by my desires, I suddenly saw a corner store covered in cigarette ads.

I looked through my wallet. I had little more than $30 available to me. _That won't exactly get me far. Still, how am I supposed to improve my financial situation? I mean, I can't exactly get a job in my current state…_ The best course of action I could come up with was to ask Therese if maybe there was something I could do for her. She seemed to have plenty of money, and it surely couldn't help to have her think I was useful.

Again, as though in answer to my thoughts, I saw her club come into view as soon as I rounded the corner. I walked up to the old edifice reverberating with bass. Right as I got close, I was accosted by familiar, nasal voice.

"Hey, Lucius!" I turned, easily able to figure out who was talking to me. After all, it's not like that many people knew my name at the time. There he was – standing outside the club doorway, slowly killing himself with noxious fumes coming from a small, white cylinder in his mouth.

I approached him, smiling. "Knox! Good to see you again. Thanks for your help back there."

He broke into a wide grin. "Hey man, no prob! Seriously, though, you just kind of ran off without even saying bye!"

_Yeah, I kind of did. Well, I suppose I owe it to you to find out what you were trying to talk to Therese about._ "Hey, I was just trying to get in there and seize the day. It worked, too. Now I can go up and talk to Therese whenever I need."

"Nice, man! So… I saw you going up there with Jeanette. Score, dude!" He even raised his palm in high-five gesture. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. _Man, that was lame when it was brand new, back in the 80s._ "C'mon man, don't leave me hanging!" I obliged him out of pity.

"Look, Knox, it wasn't like that. Vampires don't… we don't do that."

A confused look flew across his face. "But… I talked to lots of guys in the club who said she took them upstairs! And, like, they all say it was a really good time, too!"

I thought about that for a second. "And do any of them actually remember what happened up there?"

"Well, I mean, they didn't give me exact details or anything, and they were all pretty drunk… plus they said that Jeanette has like this huge stash of drugs and pills, and she like crushed all kinds of stuff up and had 'em snort it… although, the weirdest thing, she didn't do any of it herself."

_Interesting little tidbit. Store that away under the "get Therese's favor" file for later. Why would she do that? Is that how Kindred get high?_ "Knox, honestly, she probably took them upstairs and fed on them. And they don't remember because that's what happens when you've been fed on – it feels good, and you can't remember what happened."

His eyes went wide. "Whoa, man. I mean, that makes total sense, I just can't believe I didn't see it before. Man, I was totally thinking with my dick! Geeze, and if I'd actually gotten her attention…"

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, it's probably for the best that I went up with her instead of you. And since you helped me get to Therese, I'm willing to help you out. Why were you trying to reach her, anyway?"

He pulled in closer, looking around in suspicion. "Well, I'm not supposed to tell anyone, since it's a _secret mission_ and all, but you seem really cool, man, so I'll let you in on the secret. Okay, so my _vampire master, _right? He tells me that he needs her to call off this feud she's got going on with this one vampire. I don't know any of the details, man, I just know that I'm supposed to deliver this note…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed letter. "…to Jeanette, and then ask Therese to call off the feud."

I looked Knox with renewed interest. _Poor guy is probably way over his head._ "Who's your master, again?"

He shook his head. "I really can't tell you, man. I mean, I'm not supposed to mention any of this, but I'm _really_ not supposed to say who I'm working for. Sorry, man, but… well, I'm sure a cool vampire like you knows how it is! Secrets and shadows and all that spy stuff. So, you think there's anything you can do to help me out?"

I smiled at him. _I should just take this task of this poor, oblivious fool's hands. It's pretty much already done, anyway._ "You know what, you're not going to believe this, but I'm trying to get the feud called off, too. As a matter of fact, I just completed a task for Therese, and she said that if I did this, she'd call off the feud. So honestly, it's as good as done. I'm going up to let her know right now."

His face lit up like a child that just got a new puppy. "Oh really! Man, that's like, the coolest thing ever! Damn! So... that, like, makes us partners, or something like that, right? Dude, if you could deliver this up to Jeanette," he said as he handed me the envelope, "that would be so cool, man! Seriously, if you get all this taken care of, and if you ever, um, you know – talk to Tung… they guy the feud is all about? If you talk to him, like mention that I really helped out, okay? Seriously, I really appreciate this, man. You're the greatest!"

I just smiled at his giddy enthusiasm. While the guy was just on this side of annoying, it was refreshing to be dealing with someone so naively innocent. After all the incessant worrying and paranoia I had been going through the last two nights, dealing with someone who was just genuine, if a bit stupid, was remarkably refreshing."Hey, no problem. I'll definitely mention you to Tung once this is all taken care of. Um… do you have any idea what's in the envelope?" I certainly didn't want Therese to be accusing me of going around behind her back or anything. Of course, seeing as how Knox and I were working to the same ends, I figured passing this along couldn't possibly be detrimental to me.

"No idea, man. I was told I couldn't open it – that it had to be delivered to her as is. Believe me – I wish I knew this stuff, too! But hey, that's how it is, right?"

Putting the envelope in my pocket, I shrugged. "Yeah, I know how it is. Okay, Knox. I'm heading in to get this taken care of. See you around." I flicked by butt into the street.

"See you, Lucius! Thanks so much, man!" With that, Knox headed away, practically skipping in joy. With an amused smile, I stepped up the stairs and into the club.

The place was still packed with the same bizarre crowd, was still filled with the same throbbing music. It bothered me much less this time around – after the Ocean House Hotel, it was just a lot more difficult for me to feel unnerved by much of anything. Plus, this time I hadn't entered a crowded area while hungry. I headed right around the corner, straight for the elevator. I looked down, suddenly unsure what I should be doing. I saw the code pad, which Jeanette had used to get up – _too bad I didn't watch her to see what the code was_. I saw a large button, marked "call." Since I had no other options, I pressed it.

I waited for about a minute, increasingly nervous about the prospect that nobody was upstairs. I looked over to my right, only to see a young girl staring at me. She couldn't have been older than 19. She had long, black hair that was draped down over her face, showing only one green eye. She had on a long, flowing white dress that seemed completely out of place here. She wasn't dancing or drinking or anything – she was just leaning against the wall, staring at me. There was something strange about her – I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I turned on Auspex, trying to get a feel for what was going on – only to be completely overwhelmed by the sensory overload that was reverberating through The Asylum. My Auspex had unquestionably become more perceptive since the last time I was in this club – much to my detriment. I was overwhelmed by the throbbing music, the bright, garish lights, but above all – the auras just about made me faint. They were all writhing and twisting together in a way that made me feel nauseous and disoriented all over again, just like in the Ocean House Hotel… I was so put off by the whole thing that I barely heard the voice come over the intercom.

"Hello, there! Now, who exactly is interested in chatting with cute little me? I warn you, if you don't keep me entertained, I might just come down there and bite you!" Her bubbly, grating voice drifted out of the electronic speaker right above the intercom button – just as I was shut Auspex off, thankfully. I was just getting over the disorientation when the knowledge of who I was going to have to interact with hit me. _Great. Should have figured it wouldn't be that easy. Well, I'll just ignore Jeanette and deal directly with Therese as soon as I get up there. After all, now that Therese knows me, there's no reason for me to bother with that crazy bitch anymore. Just need to get her to buzz me up._

I composed a reply and held the button again, speaking directly into the microphone. "Hey, it's Lucius. Um, I'm just here because I managed to finish that job Therese asked me to do, so she should be calling off that whole thing with Tung. Works out for everyone, right?" I was trying my best to seem to overtly friendly to Therese – after all, a temperamental psycho like Jeanette might manage to take offense to anything, and then I couldn't get up and talk to Therese and get her cell phone number or something so I could bypass her sister in the future. _Hm… in fact, maybe I should make a big show of rejecting Jeanette in front of them both. If I'm reading the relationship between them at all, Therese would appreciate that. Combine that with an offer to do further work for her, and I might just manage to get myself a powerful ally. But for now, best to play it safe._

"Hmm… just the person I wanted to see. Come on up, duckling." With that invitation, the elevator doors opened. I took one last look at the club. The strange girl was looking out at the crowd in a bored disinterest. Putting her out of my mind and focusing on the task at hand, I stepped into the elevator and tried to figure out how I would handle this situation.

Once the elevator had ascended, I stepped out and knocked on the door. "Come in, duckling!" came echoing from within the room. I opened the door and entered.

The room was the same as before, with one small but significant exception: the office was now vacant, while the schoolgirl outfit-clad sister was sitting provocatively on the tacky, heart-shaped bed at the far end of the room. She looked up at me with sultry eyes and beckoned me with a finger. _Great._

I walked over to her, trying to figure out a way to extricate myself from the situation I found myself in. _Play it cool._ "Hey, Jeanette. How you doing?"

She smiled up at me. "How odd. I was just having naughty thoughts about you. You made quite an impression earlier. Did you come up just to cheer lonely, little me?"

Again, my sense of disconnection aided me, allowed me to remotely assess the situation and determine the best course of action. _Flatter her until Therese is in front of you. Don't risk the wrath of either until you can demonstrate your commitment to one over the other in the presence of both._ "Well, I did come up for that, but unfortunately that wasn't the only reason. Like I said, I've got to appease your sister or deal with a very angry and violent Camarilla. Is she around?"

She smirked at that. "Therese is out making a show of how well her lips fit on the pants seat of the Camarilla. Did you happen to find her chastity belt or something?"

I actually felt a small twinge of resentment at her mention of Therese sucking up to the Camarilla – I wasn't exactly too fond of them, to put it mildly. Still… _I'm not interested in dealing with Jeanette, no matter how Therese's political allegiances fall. Besides… allying myself with an ally of the Camarilla might help convince LaCroix to stop desiring my death._ "I actually have to give her this locket from the Ocean House Hotel – she wants to use it to get rid of this ghost that's haunting the place so she can start making money off of it. I'm supposed to give this thing…" I pulled the locket out of my pocket and displayed it to Jeanette, who immediately began staring at it in interest. "…to Therese. Do you know where she is?"

Her eyes glinted with a mischievous light. "Let me see it." It was the strangest thing – I was filled with this sudden, intense desire for Jeanette, almost like the desire for blood – it was twisted and erotic and fierce, and suddenly I just wanted to do whatever she wanted and ride along with her on whatever wild ride she would take me on. But my instincts rebelled against this – my life experiences had been embedded far too deeply for me to accept it. I pulled back into the bubble in terrified revulsion, placing as solid a barrier as I could between myself and the impulse, allowing me to analyze the situation I found myself in. It suddenly occurred to me that I was being manipulated by some sort of supernatural means. I looked forward, only to see Jeanette reaching towards the locket hanging from my outstretched hand. _No way, bitch! I went through way too much to get this locket for you to take it like some plaything!_ I jerked my hand back instinctually.

She stared at me in shock. I didn't have time to make up anything. I simply stated the truth. "Therese told me to deliver it only to her." She was fuming now, furious at my obedience to her sister. I had to quickly improvise. "Look, I need to keep the Camarilla happy or I'm screwed. That means I need her to call of the feud. Which means I have to do what she says. It's not my choice, Jeanette."

Her anger was replaced instantly with an intense sadness. Her face was no longer an erotic pout, but a miserable, pathetic visage. "I'm not just some silly doll, you know!" She was all but crying now. "All my life my sister has made me out to be a joke. She told you I was an embarrassment, didn't she? That I couldn't tie my shoes, let alone hold onto something for her. Is that it?"

_Seriously? Shit, I know an emotional minefield when I see one. Why the fuck do I have to deal with this bullshit after everything I've had to do so far? Careful, careful…_ "She didn't tell me anything about you. She was just very specific about what I need to do. Sorry…" My pathetic attempt to get out of this situation sounded half-assed, even to me.

She was bringing the misery on full-blast now, radiating it in a way that I didn't understand but at least recognized. I was assaulted by a wave of sympathy for her. Her face was made into a mask of unjust suffering that nearly managed to convince me she was expressing some genuine emotion. _Right… just like how I used to believe that Jenny was really that miserable, and not just the greatest actress ever, playing me like her own personal fiddle._ "She's always belittling me. She's the smart one, she's the favorite, she's the successful one. Well, it's not fair! I'm not a fool! This club's success is just as much my doing as hers!" That last little comment was what truly inoculated me against her manipulations – it was more a comment to herself than to me, but it showed me how much this was about the personal rivalry between the two sisters more than anything else, breaking the spell of her projected delusions. "Do you understand what it's like to have your own flesh and blood ripping you apart on a daily basis for two lifetimes? Can you?"

She had managed to rip some very personal truth from me. "Yes. Well, I mean, not for two lifetimes – only for one. But yes, I understand, and I dealt with it." I was all but horrified at myself for my outpouring of raw emotional history. But that last statement was as much a defiance of her accusations as it was truth – _I dealt with it, so stop whining, you pathetic, immortal child._ "I'm sorry, but I can't give you this locket." There was a fierce fury blasting out from her eyes, nearly making me recoil in terror. I was scrambling inside the boiling bubble, my mind focused entirely on trying to find a way to appease her. It grasped desperately at a potential solution. "Oh, but I do have something for you!" Her anger evaporated into writhing suspicion. I pulled the envelope out of my pocket. "Here, this is for you."

Her sadness evaporated away like water on a hot plate. Almost instantly, the envelope was in her hand and she was ripping it open with a rapid efficiency I didn't think she was capable of. She quickly read the document, her eyes lighting up and a nasty smile creeping across her face as she grasped its contents. She looked up at me and managed to really unnerve me. She was staring at me with a strange, unreadable intensity that I found equal parts frightening and disorienting. "Fine. You hold on to it." _Thank god. She's conceding. _"Hmm… since you were so willing to brave that big, spooky place for my darling sister, how about doing a teensy, tiny favor for little, troubled me?"

I felt as though I was being dropped from a cliff, tumbling through brambles and thickets, unable to maintain orientation or comprehend what exactly was going on. I was trying to get my bearings, but my relief was too profound, and her praise had touched at a raw nerve – my bitterness at the seemingly insurmountable tasks I had been assigned. It didn't overcome my suspicions – but it did manage to soften them. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you know the Gallery Noir, down the street?" I nodded, having vaguely noticed a building with that sign out front near Mercurio's place. "I happen to know there's a charity event being organized there. Lots of the influential Santa Monicans slithering in for token appearances. But there's one thing they don't know… The whole event's been set up by a Kindred trying to establish their own power clique in this city. And we can't let that happen, can we? So I need some brilliant young upstart to spoil the milk."

I considered. It seemed like something that would make Therese happy… _right? I mean, I'm sure Jeanette has her own reasons to hate this rival, but in the end they are on the same team, right?_ I unconsciously was aware that something was off about this whole affair, but since I couldn't think of anything consciously, I figured I may as well agree. _It's too early for Jeanette to think I'm her enemy. LaCroix is a dangerous enough threat to me on his own. Still…_ my thoughts drifted back to my financial situation. "Not a problem. Anything for you, Jeanette. I was wondering, though, if there was any way I could be compensated for this thing. I'm in pretty rough financial straits right now."

She eyed me with a wry amusement. "I promise this won't take long. Take this knife." She handed me an object from a nearby end table. It was, quite possibly, the most terrible, wicked blade I had ever imagined. The handle was in the shape of a lizard, with the hilt being a widely outstretched mouth. Coming out of the mouth was a blade made to look like its tongue, complete with a vein running down the middle of it. It waved slightly back and forth before reaching its end almost half a foot away from the hilt. There were random serrations along the edge, and the whole thing emanated a terrible, malevolent feeling. I wasn't sure whether I should be terrified or in love. "Give the paintings in the gallery a good slashing. Don't get caught, and don't turn it into a massacre. And steal the charity box, would you? Buy yourself something… velvet."

I took the fascinating tool of destruction and thought over the whole offer. _Slash some paintings. No big deal. Steal the charity box. Fuck it. I need that cash. Hell, if not for the money, I'd most likely just take this wicked knife and not do Jeanette's little task –just wait until Therese gets back and give her the locket, then maybe offer to do this thing for her… but if there's money to be gained, it's worth doing regardless._ Giving Jeanette a grin that she seemed to appreciate, I replied to her suggestion. "Sounds like fun. Thanks for the tip about the charity box. What charity is it going towards, anyway?"

She reassured the vestiges of my old conscience. "Oh, some generic, nice-sounding thing. Honestly, every penny dropped in that box is going right into some other Kindred's purse. You'd be crooking from a dirty steal."

_Sounds good._ "So, when I finish this, Therese will be here? She'll call off the whole feud with Tung?"

She pulled her hands up to her chest at the mention of Tung in childish excitement – an excitement that I actually found believable, given her earlier comments about the individual in question. "I'm sure Therese will be thrilled to honor your agreement when you get back. But in the meantime, get to the museum and ruin those paintings, then come back." Quivering with excitement, she finished, "I want to hear all about it! Hurry up! I can only amuse myself for so long…" With a dirty smile on her face, she dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

I walked off, feeling upset, confused, and eager to obtain some money, if only for the safety net it would provide me. I exited the room with a sigh of relief, feeling strangely as though I had escaped the clutches of some terrible grasping creature. I entered the elevator as quickly as I could and descended.

The club was now familiar and sane compared to the bizarre emotional forces I'd been assaulted with upstairs. That same strange girl was still leaning against the wall, looking out at the writhing mass of humanity. She looked up as I passed her, interest registering on her face. I still couldn't place what was off about her… but I couldn't be bothered right now. I still wasn't quite sure why I was doing anything I was doing, but I knew that I needed to take care of things at this Gallery Noir… I just didn't want to deal with it right now.

I finally was able to gain some semblance of sanity and balance outside the club. I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about me… but try as I might, there was no placing the sensation, and devoid of a logical explanation, I was forced to chalk it all up to nervousness and frustration. Searching for some kind of comfort, I found it in another death cylinder. I lit it up and stepped out into the street.

_God, I need someone to talk to – some kind of temporary escape. I wonder if those Thin Bloods are still hanging out at the beach?_


	14. Chapter 13: Wilted Petals

**Hey everyone! Back with a nice little resolution to the flower problem before Lucius obliviously wades back into the little Malkavian Jyhad game playing itself out in Santa Monica. Plenty of Vandal creepiness to go around in this chapter. Before wading in, I would like to point one thing out: I am deviating **_**very**_** slightly from standard VTM cannon. The last time I so much as suggested doing this, I was crucified in the reviews (you can look back at earlier reviews if you want to see exactly what a bunch of rabid VTM fans raving about cannon looks like.) So… please be forgiving! I mean… it's not like VTM is officially alive anymore anyway, so… no need to hate, right?**

**Stravvberry: Thanks as always for your review. I try and keep a balance between the dark atmosphere of VTM and Lucius' sarcastic means of dealing with all this. Thanks for noticing! Also, I'd like to let everyone know that Stravvberry is publishing a new chapter for her excellent story, Tulle and Sheep's Wool, either tonight or tomorrow. It's about Velvet's embrace, and it's far more interesting than the character was in the game. Check it out!**

**Flying Frog: That girl was a non-interactive NPC who showed up in the Asylum – and absolutely nowhere else. I was constantly wondering what she was about, but you couldn't talk to her or anything. I forgot about her – until the character model showed up out of the blue at the Giovanni mansion! No explanation, no interaction, nothing – it smacked of incompletion. So I'm making up a story for the character. You'll see what it is soon enough. Now, I was actually thinking of skipping the Officer Chunk introduction until downtown LA. If you have any serious objections to this, please let me know via review or PM and I will change it.**

**Rednightmare: Thank you for noticing those little character details! As always, you are far more perceptive about the minutiae of my story than anyone else. Your perception must be up at four or five. :P But yes, Lucius probably has no artistic sensibilities whatsoever, though I imagine he might appreciate music a bit more than painting. And as for that knife – thanks. I had fun with that description.**

**SpecialAgentOrange: Thanks for the compliments – I'm always trying to flesh out the in-game story, make it feel more… complete. As great as the entire Jeanette/Therese ordeal was, it felt a bit incomplete and rushed – much like the rest of the game. Damn you Activision for forcing Troika to push up the launch date to match Half Life 2's! That didn't even make sense! Nobody bought this game because they were all playing HL2! You should have let Troika finish the game properly, then released it later, just in time for everyone to be done with HL2 and have video game blue balls from that game's massive cliffhanger ending! Argh… if only I ran the world, these kinds of things wouldn't happen…**

**Claqueur: Thank you! Like Rednightmare, you notice the many flaws I've tried to write into Lucius to make him interesting to readers like you. I'm so glad you find it my work entertaining! And as for the humanity issue – seriously, Humanity was so poorly balanced in the game. I mean, short of being a complete homicidal nut, there was no way to fall below two humanity. Sigh… yet again, we can only lament the fact that the game was rushed out before completion. As for Jeanette having Presence as a discipline: you know, I originally envisioned what she was doing only as a use of fourth-level Dementation, but after reading your comment, it totally makes sense that she would have picked up Presence (after all, I'm sure LA is lousy with Toreador eager to make "interesting" friends.) So… let's think of this more as what happens when a Malkavian starts combining their Dementation with Presence. I imagine manipulative Jeanette and controlling Therese would both have reasons to make use of such an ability…**

**CalebElBardo: When will I continue it? Um… right now! **

… … …

I sat on the log by the fire, feeling the ocean breeze blow across my face.

"So, mate, how's your night been?"

I pulled back my head and laughed. "God, where do I start? It's been fucking crazy. I – I don't even know how to…"

"Hey, it's alright. Calm down, mate. We're all friendly here." E's big, earnest smile reassured me, put me at ease – just like it had the last time I sat down around this fire. It felt like a lifetime since then, back when killing Dennis had caused me to first seek out their companionship. I wasn't sure if that would even bother me anymore. I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, my body collapsing from my upright sitting position, elbows coming to rest on my knees.

Staring into the fire, I recounted my night – Therese, Jeanette, the Ocean House Hotel. Looking up, I saw E staring at me askance. _I can't blame you for being incredulous. I can barely believe it myself. _It was Julius who broke the silence. "You – you're saying y-y-you've seen a r-real ghost?" He was staring at me in wide-eyed wonder.

"Hey, I didn't believe it at first. But believe me, this wasn't just a couple of weird noises or anything. We're talking about me walking into a kitchen and every damn thing in the room flying around and trying to kill me. We're talking about a whole other world that exists right next to ours, and this was a spot where the barrier between worlds is thin. According to Therese, there are werewolves, mummies, ghosts, and a bunch of other stuff in this world that is supposed to be fake. I suppose if vampires are real, that makes sense." I looked over to E to see his response, but he was looking at something behind me. I turned around.

Rosa, the first thin-blood I'd ever met, was standing right next to me, staring down at me. "You have seen the dead." It was not a question, but a flat statement. I nodded. "You have some piece of the house with you – some anchor for the restless spirits." I hadn't given out any details about the Ocean House Hotel – just the fact that it was haunted and I had been forced to exorcise the spirit. "May I see it?"

I reached cautiously into my pocket. I wasn't going to give this thing up, but… I held it out with one hand locked firmly on the chain. "You can look, but I'm not letting go of it. I went through way too much to get this, and I have to deliver it to Therese."

She nodded and held the locket in her hand gently. "That poor woman… wearing the seed of jealousy… oh, god! The children! The mad father has burned it all!" She pulled back, letting the locket drop out of her hands, staring at it in fear. I quickly put it back into my pocket.

I looked at her with interest. She had known exactly what I was doing and what I was looking for when I first saw her. Now she seemed to know what had happened at the Ocean House Hotel just by touching the locket. _How?_ "Do you know Auspex? The ability to see the hidden?"

She shook her head. Julius tried to explain what was going on. "R-r-r-Rosa, she s-s-sees things. Like, from the f-f-f-future and st-stuff."

E added onto his explanation. "When she first came around, we thought she was crazy – but we figured that beggars can't be choosers, so we let her hang around. Then some of the things she said started to come true. She even predicted that you were going to show up." That piqued my interest. "What was it you said, Rosa?"

Still looking down at me, she replied, "I stated that a powerful Vampire would come to us shortly. I said that you would be friendly to us – and that you will be propelled by a terrible destiny. I know that chaos and destruction surround you like a whirlwind, and that death follows in your wake."

I stared at her, fascinated, enraptured. _Could she be able to help me? Tell me who might be trying to kill me, when it will happen – and how I can avoid it?_ "What do you mean?"

There would be no clarification. "You have been… no, you are going to China." _What?_ "Why is he smiling? The father? Is it – is it the father behind him?"

"Behind who? Who's smiling?"

"You… you chased it for the one at the top of the city… on the sea, underground… Ha! You found it! In the crypt… it's open… oh, god, it's open! Oh, god! Run!"

I was staring wide-eyed at her. Her fear was so real it looked like she was staring directly at something dangerous right in front of her. "What is it? What's going to put me in danger?" I grabbed her arm, trying to get her to give me a straight answer.

It was as though I had pulled her out of some trance. She blinked, then looked at me. "I – what was I doing?" She shook her head as though to clear it, then seemed to laugh a little at herself. "Ah. I'm sorry. Sometimes I see… nothing. Disregard what I say."

"You expect me to just ignore that? What's going to happen to me? What do I need to look out for?"

She seemed furtive now, very bothered by my pushing. "I don't know what I'm saying. Forget what I said."

I was desperate now. I was fed up with being in the dark. I needed some illumination. "Please, I need you to tell my fortune."

She smirked at the term _fortune_. "Fortune is not your destiny. None of us are fortunate. Every time I sleep the future plays out before me. I know the ending… it will end over and over until I cease to dream. I know your questions. For $100 I will tell you what you don't want to hear. I need money to leave this place."

_What are these riddles? What I don't want to hear?_ "Look, I'm not exactly rich right now, myself." Thankfully, I had stopped by at Tripp's before coming here to return the knife I had bought from him. He seemed impressed with my new weapon when I took it out of Lily's backpack. The sheath I had worked with the new knife, so I kept that. Now I had $60 more spending money. Not too bad, all in all. "I can offer you $40 for whatever you can tell me about my future. That's all I've got to spare."

I held out two wrinkled twenties. She looked them over, then took them. "I will look into you. I will tell you what I see. It will be a stream of images. I cannot answer questions. I cannot explain what I see. I cannot repeat what I say." I nodded.

"Hold on, I'll get something to write down what you tell me. Um… anyone have a pen?"

E held one out to me. "Here you go, mate. Don't have any paper, though."

I thought for a second. I knew I had something. "Oh, hold on!" I took off the backpack.

E's eyes immediately lit up. "Is that… Is that Lily's backpack?"

"Oh, yeah! I talked to the woman at the diner. She gave me this. There's a couple of things inside." I opened it up and emptied it out.

"Huh. I went by there, but all that the woman would say to me is that I'd hurt Lily and she didn't want to see me. I guess Lily must have said something about me to her." I nodded as I pulled out Lily's picture. I handed it gingerly to E. He took it almost reverentially. "My god… I never thought I'd see her again! I… thank you, Lucius. Even if this is all you manage to find, it's far better than nothing." The way he was staring at the picture warmed my dead heart a little, reminding me of the living warmth of the sunlit room where I had seen Serena and the intense joy I had felt at merely seeing a phantom of my dead sire.

I pulled out the bail bond. "I also found this. It's a bail bond. Lily signed it. She paid the bail for some guy named Rolf. That name mean anything to you?"

E shook his head. "No clue, mate. That date… that's before I even met her. Wish I had some info I could give you, but…" He just shrugged.

"Ah, well. At least I can write on the back of this." I turned back to Rosa. "I'm ready." She nodded.

She stared at me, then stared at something far away that was through me, or in me. "The crimson ship. He's not who he says he is and it's going to burn. Dinosaurs? He's furious… the man with the crest… the voice in the darkness, boss. Chinese brothers. Follow the lights to the end of the tunnel. Where do you want to go?" She seemed to pull back, blinking, breathing heavily. I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. "There are only two you can trust: the man on the couch… the lone wolf. All others… tread carefully." Then she seemed to fall back, sitting down on the log next to me with a sigh.

I had hurriedly written down everything she was saying on the back of the bail bond. I looked up at her, admiration and fascination filling me. _She could have just made all that up and ripped me off, but… I think she has some kind of second sight._ _Who are the two I can trust? The man on the couch? Sounds like Mercurio. So who is the lone wolf? Jack? _"Anything else?"

She stared at me, an intense seriousness written on her face. "Yes. Don't – open – it." With that last piece of advice, she looked away from me and stared silently into the fire.

I wrote that last piece of advice down and looked at the future this strange oracle had given to me. I had scribbled everything so fast that it verged on illegibility… and certainly was incomprehensible. Still… _maybe I can make sense of this later._ I tucked it into my pocket.

I sat for a minute, staring at the fire, trying to process everything. "Here it is!" E suddenly shouted from my left. I looked over at him. He triumphantly pulled a very tiny diary out of the backpack. It was about two inches by two. There was a small, yellow creature dancing on the cover, and it was held closed by a green band around it.

I was very surprised. "What the – where did you find that? I searched that backpack thoroughly!"

E smiled at me. "Lily had this secret pocket in her backpack where she kept her diary. I saw her putting the diary in there once and made a comment. God, it made her so embarrassed when I found out." His eyes had taken on a faraway, nostalgic look. Then he snapped out of it and focused back on the diary. He whipped the band off and opened the book up, carefully scanning through. His eyes suddenly widened. "Here's the last entry. She wrote it after embracing me! Oh… damnit, Lily… this is my fault." He sighed and hung his head.

I wanted to help. If there was any way I could reunite sire and child, I was willing to do it. "What's wrong?"

E sighed again. "When she embraced me, she explained to me what I was. I didn't want to accept it, but the hunger was very real… but I said I would never take blood from anyone or anything, that that was just sick… so she fed me some of her blood. I was okay with that, but I told her I wouldn't take blood from anyone unwillingly. Then I left to find my friends from the surf tourney. I tried to show them what I was, but they just… they just freaked out. One of my best friends started attacking me, and I – I was just so scared, and hungry, and I…" He hung his head again, unable to go on.

I reached out a hand to his shoulder to comfort him. "It's okay. We've all been there. You're among friends. So what's in Lily's diary?"

"In the last entry, she says she wanted to find blood for me… blood I would drink… freely given blood. She said she had heard about a place that sells donated blood. But… where could that be?"

Understanding and fear hit me in quick succession. "I know where she went. The blood bank under the hospital. They sell blood packs for $180 a pop. Did she have that kind of money?"

E shook his head. "No. So, you're saying there's a chance you might know where she is?" There was this shadow of desperate hope coming through his eyes. I had to be careful here… didn't need him running off and ending up hurt.

"Maybe… how desperate do you think she was to get that blood? Desperate enough to beg? Desperate enough to cut a deal with someone that might have been against her best judgment?"

E was looking at me with worry now. "I mean, from what she was writing, she seemed really desperate. Do you think she's in trouble? Does she need our help?"

_This is what I was afraid of. No offense to E, but I don't think he would help much in this situation._ "Listen, I don't know anything for sure. The ghoul in charge of the blood bank works for Therese, who runs Santa Monica. You do anything to him, and she gets pissed at you. She get's pissed at you, you aren't staying here much longer. Trust me, I have like… powers. Do you have any?" E shook his head. "Okay, so it would be better if you stayed here. I know you want to help, but things are much more likely to work out if I go alone. Okay?"

I could see that E was struggling with himself. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded. "Okay. You seem to get what's going on, so… just… I know there's pretty much no chance of me ever seeing Lily again, so… don't go and put yourself in any danger or burden yourself trying to find her. I'm probably just being a fool even thinking this is possible, but… thanks Lucius."

I nodded, touched by his bitterness and resignation, by his refusal to give up hope despite everything. _If only I had some reason to think I'd ever see Serena in the flesh… and yet, I keep thinking it's possible somehow, don't I? Impossible hope has a funny way of refusing to die._ Getting up, I reassured him. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself. And if there's even a chance of me finding Lily, I'll bring her back. See you soon." I headed away from the fire, towards the stairs and the hospital beyond.

I stepped into the cold, fluorescent, sterile hallway. The only features worth noticing were the single door in the wall, the window with mesh, and the ghoul standing behind the window. I strode directly up to him.

The ghoul broke the silence. "Well, if it isn't the comedian, come back for more blood. I would think you'd got enough of it in Vietnam."

I was stopped by the bizarre nature of his statement, but only for a moment. I had created a plan while walking here. I just needed to stick to it. "Yeah, I'm looking to get some blood. Unfortunately, I still don't have the money. Any way we could make a deal?" The plan was simple enough – try and make a deal with this guy like the one I suspected Lily had done.

"Hmm…" I could see streaks of dark blue in his white aura – but the blue was moving around in slow, deliberate patterns. I could sense that he was suspicious… and thoughtful. "I wish I could, comedian. But see, I don't know if you're aware – I work for the Queen Bitch of Santa Monica herself – and she has her inventory counted every day. If there's a gap between the blood in storage and the cash in the drawer, I'll be spending tomorrow night having my balls stomped on by her high heel. As much as that idea excites me… I'd much rather just watch it happen to someone else." He licked his lips in a positively unsettling way.

_God, I just want to turn around and sprint. Calm down, stay in the bubble._ I could see swirls of deep red moving in hypnotic spirals through his aura. I could sense that he wanted something strongly… something twisted. "Well, I mean… you could always make up the difference in the cash drawer from your personal cash, if I could make it worth your while…"

"Sorry, comedian, but that's not how this works. I can't think of anything you could offer me that would be worth it for me." His face had hardened into a mask of disinterest. It was a good thing I had Auspex active, because I would have assumed my plan was hopeless based on his body language and tone of voice. The deep red had spread and become more intense. He had something in mind that he wanted… but he wasn't going to say.

_Time to lay it out on the table. If he's bites, Lily might be back there. If not… then she's probably not here anyway._ "How about my blood?"

The deep red continued to spread throughout the aura, spinning into deeper and deeper hypnotic patterns with violet swirling around the edges. "Hm… how would that work? Blood for blood? You're not making much sense, comedian."

I decided to jump in, boosted by my knowledge that he was seething with desire beneath his stoic façade. "It makes perfect sense. I know how much you ghouls love vampire blood – how good it feels. You probably only get a taste of Therese's blood every so often. It would be real nice if you could have a little extra blood from time to time, right? So I give you a little of my blood, and you give me a full blood pack. I get more blood than I give, so I come out ahead in terms of my hunger… but you and I both know vampire blood is worth more than normal blood. And you get a little taste of heaven whenever you want, instead of just whenever Queen Bitch decides to give you some. Win-win."

The emotions that had been hidden beneath the surface now finally made their way onto his face. I could see flickering yellow now in his aura. Uncertainty was curbing his enthusiasm. "You do realize that Queen Bitch would be very, very unhappy about this. I'm not supposed to let anyone back here, and I'm definitely not supposed to be drinking anyone's blood but hers. So I have to ask myself… why do you want _this _blood so badly, hmm? Kindred don't get desperate for cold, processed blood like this. Not unless you have some problem with going out and feeding on your own. Or is Therese not happy with you right now, and you're not supposed to be feeding around here, hmm? I wasn't born yesterday. So why don't you share your story with me, and I'll see if I feel like sticking a needle in your arm after I hear it."

_Shit. Gotta think quickly… The best lies are mostly truth. Start telling a true story._ "Well, you see, I just got done doing a favor for Queen Bitch. I had to make a spirit leave this old, haunted hotel. Well, doing that caused me to lose most of my blood. I had to use blood on my powers just to see the ghost, and on top of that I had to burn blood in order to heal myself from the knife wounds and fire he threw at me. I was starving by the end of the fucking thing. Problem was, there was nothing to eat in that place. So I'm thinking – I don't ever want to be caught without a little extra blood on me at all times. I already fed, so I'm not too hungry right now – I'm just scared of ever ending up in that kind of position again. Like I was always taught in the Boy Scouts: Be Prepared." Of course, I'd been in Boy Scouts for about a month before quitting – much to the massive disappointment of my parents.

His interest was completely obvious now – the stare he was giving me was making me very uncomfortable, and the manner in which he was chewing on his lower lip was positively... shudder-inducing. _This little bee likes taking extra honey on the side. He's definitely interested. And Lily is definitely here. _"Well, I don't know. I have to replace the security tapes... not that I couldn't – but it's dreadfully difficult. And I have to pay almost two hundred dollars. I'm not sure if this is really worth it to me..."

Auspex had worn off, but I could tell what was going on. He wanted the blood, but his common sense was telling him that this was a bad idea. He was at a tipping point. _Now's the time to use it._ "C'mon, you know it's worth that feeling. If it's anything like what I feel when I drink blood, that feeling is worth fucking anything. You know you want my blood. Just openthe door and we can get this transaction started."

I could tell immediately that my plan had worked. He smiled widely, nodded, got up, and buzzed the door open. I entered.

Serena had always told me that the best time to use Dominate was when the command word was hidden in a sentence, and when the subject was already predisposed to the idea. My introduction to Dominate was rather fascinating, if unsettling. Serena had explained the discipline to me. When I expressed disbelief, she told me, "_I can completely control you. To demonstrate this, I will make you humiliate yourself in front of me. I will force you to lick my feet against your will, right now._ I laughed, then promptly fell on my knees and was giving her toes a tongue bath a single command later. It had been used abruptly, harshly, and meanly – in other words, in a way I was bound to notice. From there she explained the basics of it to me, and had me practice – via symbols drawn in blood – the fine art of entrancing and controlling her house cat. As she joked to me once, "_I swear, that's the only possible way to make the petulant beast obey a single command."_

As I walked through the door toward the bend up ahead, from which I could hear the footsteps of the terrifying ghoul I was about to try and double-cross – I couldn't help but think of that cat. He had been as adorable as he had been skittish. A beautiful blue Siamese, he refused to come out of hiding for anyone but Serena. That was part of why she was so impressed when my Auspex allowed me to see that she had a cat. She actually showed me a great deal of respect when I managed to get him to come out of hiding and he allowed me to pet him. Right as I saw the blood-addicted freak round the corner in front of me, I wondered what had become of Mouse the cat. _I hope he's alright, wherever he is._

The creep destroyed my nostalgic reverie. "This way, comedian. Time to make me really smile."

I followed him down a hallway until we took a left, and then entered a door at the end of that hallway, right at another turn. He held the door open for me. I entered cautiously. I saw a chair ahead of me, an empty blood pack on an IV stand, several surgical implements, and a nearby refrigerator. I kept a hand on the door until the freak entered. _Don't need him slamming it and trapping me in here._ Once the door closed behind him, he gestured to the chair. I sat down, trying to fight down the instinctual flight instinct that hit me whenever he got near me. _God, Lily must have felt the same way when she came down here. I wonder where she is? And how exactly am I going to go about looking for her?_

"Okay... just a little pinprick. There will be no more... ah! There we go!" He said this as he pushed a thick metal needle into my vein. He turned on some machine that was connected to the bag on the IV drip, and my blood began swimming out of my veins. I watched the bag slowly fill up with fascination and dismay. Right as the amount of blood I was losing was starting to make me feel really uncomfortable (a little under a quarter was full) the ghoul declared, "That's about right," and proceeded to seal off the bag and pull the needle out.

He unhooked the bag and took it to the fridge. As he put it in, he took out a bottle of water. "Want some?" he offered. "It takes the edge off the blood loss."

I was intrigued. I figured that I may as well take this opportunity to educate myself. "I didn't know I could drink anything but blood. Is alcohol or soda okay, too?"

He laughed openly at my ignorance. "You really are fresh of the boat, aren't you? Well, infant comedian, let me enlighten you. Your digestive system is dead. There is exactly one thing it can do – shove whatever you put in there back up the way it came. Water is absorbed directly into the bloodstream – no digestion involved. Try anything else, though, and you're going to be puking up blood, bits of intestine, and whatever you tried to shove down your gullet." With that, he held out the bottle.

I looked at it warily, but figured I was immune to poison and disease – so I should be okay. Worst case scenario, something in here makes me puke – and I was more than happy to use Purge to return the favor if he did that to me. I took the bottle and drank. It was cool and pleasant – but not nearly as good to drink as when I was alive. There was no need for the water – and so there was no joy caused by the satisfaction of a need. Even so, its presence in my stomach took the edge of the hunger, if only a bit.

Right as I finished the bottle, I began to wonder to myself yet again, _how exactly am I going to look for Lily?_ As though in answer to my thoughts, a bodily urge made itself known to me. "Hey, where's your bathroom?" I asked.

"Take a right after leaving the room. It's right there at the end of that hallway. You can't miss it. Your blood pack will be ready by the time you get back." I nodded and left the room as quickly as possible.

After relieving myself, I proceeded further along in the hallways, deeper into the hospital. I found many locked doors wherever I went. Thankfully, I had turned Auspex on, and was searching around carefully for any sign of vampiric aura through the walls. I had been wandering around the halls for about a minute. I had found nothing – save for the aura of a human up ahead of me. _Probably a security guard. I should turn back. _That was when I saw it.

It was barely perceptible – but it was unmistakable. Right there, only a couple of walls away from me, was another Kindred. I moved forward deliberately, intently, focused on nothing else. I barely noticed the human nurse who tried to halt my progress. "What the – no one's supposed to be down here! Where the hell is security?" I paid attention to him exactly long enough to put him in a Trance so he wouldn't bother me anymore. I moved past him and found the source of the aura. Only a single locked door stood between me and my goal. I pulled my lockpicking kit out of my pocket and got to work.

I was almost done – just one more pin. I heard, through the concentration-aiding bubble, the stirrings of an individual behind me. I allowed nothing to penetrate my focus. _Gotta get this lock opened._ _Almost done._ Even when the nurse wandered up right behind me and began shouting, I refused to allow my concentration to waver. Right as he attempted to distract me, the final pin clicked into place and the doorknob turned. I strode triumphantly into the room.

The sight that greeted me was sick and terrifying. There she was – E's sire, Lily, strapped tightly into a chair with a nearby IV drip hooked up to her veins. I could recognize her from the picture I had found in her backpack – though she barely resembled that image any longer. She was still dressed in the same tie-dye shirt, she still looked like a scrawny teenager, but – her skin had become ashen and desiccated, her hands twisted into claws, her face drawn into a terrible, wrinkled, grimacing visage, her mouth snarling wordlessly at my approach. Worst of all, however, were her eyes – staring out with an inhuman terror, an incomprehensible misery, a bestial hunger that I had understood all too well. I saw in her eyes that she had become her beast – and that she was starving.

I was so focused on the sight in front of me, I didn't even notice the nurse rushing up behind me until I felt the sharp blast of electricity hit me. I jumped back, shocked. I spun around and saw him standing there, taser in his hand. I growled hatefully at him. He backed up slowly, horror in his eyes. I leapt forward. He stumbled back, trying to escape out the door. I grabbed him by the throat. He tried to taser me again. I threw him across the room. His unconscious form collapsed to the ground.

I felt a disgust and hate overwhelm me, and I was filled with a desire to just let my beast out and allow him to ravage this place, that freak of a ghoul and everyone involved in this sick operation I was witnessing. I pulled myself back under control. I had to help this poor Kindred. She was looking up at me with desperation and hunger – it was obvious to me that she was thinking of drinking my blood. I ignored the unsettling way she stared at me and tried to communicate with her. "Lily? Is that you? I'm Lucius. I'm here to help. It's going to be okay."

My words didn't seem to register with her. Her tongue rolled out of her mouth, and she seemed to struggle to put words together. "Hungry... I need it! Just a drop – just a drop of sweet blood, sliding down my throat, the hot flash in my brain lighting up my body! They took it all from me, all my blood. They feed me, but they take it right out again! It's painful – like I'm going to die! It's calling... LET ME GO!"

_She might attack me as soon as I free her – but I can't just leave her here._ I pulled the knife out of the sheath. I swear, I heard a strange singing sound as soon as it was out in the open again. Ignoring the brief illusion, I moved forward and started cutting the restraints on her wrists. With the first one freed, she began wildly clutching at me with her free hand. I quickly cut the second restraint. I jumped back as she lunged at me. She was now out of the chair, snarling at me like an animal, while I held out the knife towards her, hoping she would stay back – but the desperation in her eyes seemed to defy all sanity and self-preservation. Just as I began to contemplate the possibility of having to kill Lily, the nurse who had assaulted me earlier began to stir. Both our eyes fixed on him as he tried to get up.

Lily didn't hesitate. She leapt onto him, knocking him back to the ground. She immediately sank her fangs into him – not into his neck, but directly into his heart. I could see that he was in agony. His face was stretched into a terrible grimace, and his limbs were now spasming like a man having a seizure. The spasming became more and more intense, until finally the body went completely limp.

Lily pulled her head back and took in a shuddering gasp of breath, blood running down her mouth and dripping onto the gaping hole she had just gauged in the chest of her victim. "The heat... mmm. It's never been so satisfying!" She was speaking with a sensual excitement in her voice that elicited unease, pity, and vicarious excitement from me. She wiped the blood from her mouth with her hand, then proceeded to thoroughly lick it clean. She slowly rose and looked down at the body. "I drained him..." She seemed to still be filled with the animalistic joy from earlier, but seemed more thoughtful now. "I drank it all, until I felt his heart stop and it wouldn't pump any more blood into me, and I was sucking the dead muscle of a corpse. It was so good... but I've – I've killed him." Horror was beginning to make its way into her voice, and now she was backing away from the body. "I've never killed anyone before. What came over me? What happened?"

"The Beast," I answered. She whirled around at the sound of my voice, and looked at me as though she had never seen me before. "I'm Lucius. I set you free. I think they were draining your blood so they could drink it. You were starving, and the Beast took you over when I set you free."

She stared back at the corpse, then back at me, equal parts confusion and terror written on her face. "The Beast? What is that? Why couldn't I stop myself? Why did it feel so right?" She was shaking now, and the poor girl seemed to be on the verge of some kind of panic attack. I had to calm her down.

"Listen, I'm a vampire, like you. We all have the Beast inside us. It's like... our instinct, our hunger. When you're starving, it takes you over. There's nothing you can do about it. It's not your fault. You've been trapped down here for about half a year, from what I understand, so honestly I'd have done the same thing if I was in your place."

Her eyes widened. "Half a year... it all seems like a dream... but I can barely remember anything before this. Just endless pain and hunger... being fed each night, then having the blood taken right out. They'd drink it and make out with each other and... oh god... the pain... the hunger and the pain..." Sobs were escaping her throat, and she buried her face in her hands even as she fell to her knees.

I placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. E asked me to find you. He wants to see you again. He's waiting for you right now."

She looked up at me frantically, a glimmer hope shining through her horror and sadness. "E? E wants to see me? I – I don't... how? How can this be real? After everything I've been through? Are you an angel or something?"

I laughed at that. "No, just a sentimental fool who's trying to live vicariously. But we should get out of here before-"

The door swung open behind me. The ghoul was there, holding a wooden stake in his hand. He was right behind me. He nearly managed to jam the damn thing into my chest, but my earlier experiences with stakes filled me with enough of a powerful fear that I was able to move out of the way in time. Caught off balance by my dodge, he teetered forward. I grabbed him by the throat with one hand, slamming him up against the nearby wall, using my other hand to wrench the stake from his hand. Lily started screaming incoherently. _I'm sure this guy terrifies her out of her mind. She needs to get out of here. _"Lily, you need to leave! E is down on the beach, where he used to surf, with a group of thin-bloods. He's waiting for you. Hurry!" She didn't need to be told twice. She bolted for the door, and I could hear her sprinting down the hallway.

The ghoul was struggling under my grip. I pulled out my knife and held it up to his throat. The point punctured the skin, and caused a single drop of blood to run down the edge of the blade. I swear I heard that singing sound again. It was drowned out by him was screaming at me. "Why'd you have to go and let that bitch out? There's one less Phil in the world. Why'd you have to go and let her eat him up? Now I'll never get to do in that bastard myself. Well, you know what – no blood for you! And if you don't let me down right now, you're going to end up on the Queen Bitch's shit list. If I go missing, she's going to start checking security tapes. She considers this hospital to be a very important part of her domain. So don't think you'll be getting away with anything if you kill me."

I quieted the bestial rage within me, stopping to examine my situation and my options. "Okay, fair enough. You've managed to give me a reason not to kill you." To emphasize the fact that he was far from off the hook for the fucked up shit he had pulled, I licked his blood off the edge of the knife before putting it back in the sheath. That one drop of blood was invigorating – the heat, the energy it gave the mind, that life essence. Lily's words had made me take a moment to really appreciate the sensation of drinking blood. I was thoroughly hungry – I had burned quite a bit. I could only begin to imagine what Lily had been going through. _Almost half a year of being chained and on the brink of starvation. I can't even begin to imagine that hell. This guy needs to die... eventually. _I quickly came up with a plan of action. "But if Therese checks the security tapes, I'm not going to be the only one on her shit list. She's going to see you keeping a thin-blood locked up so you can drink extra blood on the side – and you've been sharing it with someone who I'm pretty sure isn't supposed to know about vampires. And then you have the nerve to try and score even more extra blood from me? No, I get the feeling that by the time she's done with you, you'll be wishing that the most creative torture she could come up with was stomping your balls with her high heel. So how about you and I make a little visit to the security room and get those tapes, and Therese never has to know about this? And why don't we get to work on making this body disappear while we're at it."

He was considering my offer, squirming, no doubt desperate to find some way to get revenge on me. Still, there was no other rational way out of this. "Fair enough, comedian. You can take some scrubs from the bench over there – you'll need to blend in."

I dropped him back to the ground and quickly pulled the scrubs over my clothes, never taking my eyes off the ghoul. He was already focused on the task at hand, however – he was quickly loading his former friend onto a stretcher. By the time I was ready, he had covered the corpse with a sheet to conceal its identity. I held open the door for him, so he could get the stretcher out. "Lead the way."

As I followed behind him, I was acutely aware of how dangerous my situation was. He could lead me anywhere – I was completely lost here – and try to stab me in the back at any moment. I reassured myself, however, that he did have to destroy those tapes and dispose of the body regardless, and without his stake he really had no way of knocking me out or incapacitating me. Plus, I could always put him in a trance or command him if it proved necessary – or just kill him if it came down to that. We reached an elevator and took it down to the basement.

The ride down in the service elevator was as silent as it was awkward. The doors opened after what felt like an eternity into an underground morgue. I followed him as he pushed the stretcher forward, up to a metal grate in the wall. He opened it up and put the body, sheet and all, inside. He then closed the grate and gestured to a lever that was right near me. "Care to do the honors?" I pulled the switch and watched as jets of flame incinerated the body, causing me to nearly jump back in instinctual fear. He smirked at my unease, which certainly didn't help me calm down. "Well, the security office is right through the door here. Why don't we grab the tapes and get this over with?" I couldn't help but be suspicious – was I going to be next in that incinerator? This could be a trap – I had to be on my guard. I let my partner in crime lead the way.

He wasn't lying – this was clearly the security room. The entire wall was a series of screens showing everything that went on in the hospital. There was a single security guard sitting there, sipping coffee, looking bored as hell. He looked up right as we entered. "Oh, hey, Vandal." _So that's the freak's name. Good to know._ "What's going on? Who's the new guy?"

Vandal looked over at me. "Oh, him? New assistant of mine. Anyway, I got word from higher up, and um, I'm going to need to make the security tape delivery early tonight. Joe isn't going to be able to do it in the morning."

The guard just rolled his eyes. "You know, I'd tell you to try and make your story a little more believable, but you and I both know there's no point. After that last meeting, it's been made pretty clear that everything is done by the book unless we get orders from higher up. You know that. And why are you even talking about this kind of shit with a new kid around, huh?"

Vandal was starting to get really nervous. Obviously the "Queen Bitch" had realized something was up with her hospital and was trying to make sure she and she alone got the security tapes. I had seen enough. I reached out with my mind and my blood and put the guard into a trance. I confidently strode past Vandal while he was staring agape at the guard and moved up to the control panels. "How do I get the tapes? Tell me quickly – we don't have much time before he wakes up."

Spurred by fear, he obeyed without thinking. "Um, just hit the eject button in the middle panel. All footage goes on one CD." I quickly hit the button and grabbed the CD, put it into a case, and pocketed it. _So far so good._

"So you said you could replace the footage? With what?"

"Um, we have backup footage of a normal day at the hospital... you know, in case Therese needs something done at the hospital that shouldn't be recorded." He opened up a lockbox with a key of his, took a CD out, and put it in the central console. The screens all flickered back to life.

The guard was still out – but I had no idea how much more time we had. "Let's go, now." I insisted. Vandal nodded. We quickly exited the room.

I immediately started heading to the elevator. "Hold on!" Vandal shouted. I turned around. "Let's destroy the footage. This is the best place. We just throw it in the fire, and –whoosh!" He held out his hand for the CD.

I turned back around and hit the call button for the elevator. The doors opened in front of me. I walked in. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" Vandal protested, holding the elevator doors open with his hand.

I smiled up at him. "I think I'm keeping that footage. I think that this CD is going to be very good... insurance. Enter the elevator." He stepped in without thinking. His eyes registered what had just happened right as the doors closed behind him. I was hungry. I was angry. I'd had just about enough of Vandal's shit. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to get me two full blood packs, and give me back the blood I gave – in return, I won't go and show this to Therese. If I do have to show this to her, I'll explain to her why I made the offer to you that I did – I was trying to track down a missing thin-blood, and suspected that you were keeping one here for their blood. I've already done an important task for her, and I'm about to do another once I'm done with you. Between my word and the video footage, you're pretty much screwed. So, on top of hooking me up with those free blood bags, you're also going to take about one third off the price of each bag in the future, to continue to give me a reason to not show this to Therese. You understand me, Vandal?"

He stared at me, seething helplessly at me, equal parts hate and fear dominating his face. He simply nodded and backed out of the elevator when it opened. I followed him back to the blood bank. I sank my fangs into the bag with my blood the instant he handed it to me. My blood was surprisingly sweet and satisfying – and yet seemed uninteresting at the same time. The life that I sensed through it was nothing I hadn't sensed before – after all, it was my life in there. Still, it felt good to have it back inside me – to know that this creep wouldn't be feeding off of it.

"Alright, now get me my two blood packs, and we'll call it a night." He resentfully went into the inventory and took the bags out. He put them in a shopping bag and handed them to me.

With a smirk, he sarcastically asked me, "Well, is there anything else I can get you, comedian?"

_**Smartass kine. Let's teach him a lesson.**_ _Couldn't agree more._ I grabbed Vandal by the throat again and shoved him up against the wall. "Yeah, a couple of things. First of all, my name is Lucius, not comedian. Don't forget it. Secondly..." I looked down at the blood packs he had given me. "...I want to save this for later. But I'm hungry _now_." With a wicked smile, I extended my fangs and sank them into Vandal's neck.


	15. Chapter 14: Planting Rocks on the Snake

**Hey there, readers! My bad on this taking so long to come out, but... shit happens, and sometimes fanfiction gets put off. I know, I know – heresy! Speaking of heresy, this chapter is full of it, along with gore galore. Just a warning/titilating teaser, depending on your temperment. But let's start things off with something a bit more upbeat and clean. First though, thank yous are in order.**

**Stravvberry: The physical description and behavior of Mouse is based on my landlady's cat. Thanks for the name, though!**

**Flying Frog: I'm trying to get Lucius to the point where he's got a basic grasp of what's going on and what he can do – get him nice and comfortable before things start getting really messed up. However, I think there's a little bit more left in the night – keep in mind, his last night didn't start until late, since he was embraced after midnight.**

**Rednightmare: I had so much fun doing Vandal... almost a disturbing amount. Unfortunately, he doesn't really do much else, so I don't know if he'll be showing up again – unlike the peeps into Serena's and Lucius's past, which will definitely continue throughout the story. By the end, it might even be a complete story all on its own! Why, it almost seems as though I'm planning to slowly flesh out their back stories as part of some overarching narrative! :P Thanks for appreciating my little original tidbits.**

**InfernalMutt: I know you didn't review last chapter, but I'm responding anyway: I agree. My earlier stuff was not that good. I kind of want to go back and do some re-edits, actually... but that's cheating. Trust me, once I managed to trick Rednightmare into wasting her time beta-reading my chapters, they got a lot better.**

**Enjoy, and thanks for reading!**

I felt the gentle breeze rustle my hair. It caused the ember that was sitting at the end of my cigarette to glow slightly. I brought it up to my lips and inhaled, taking comfort in the familiar sensation. _Overall, things seem to be going pretty well for me. I mean, LaCroix is still trying to kill me and I still have no clue what's going on, but at least I seem to have gained a few friends. _

As though on cue, Lily looked up from E, noticed me approaching, and jumped up, pointing and shouting. Soon the whole group was on its feet. I couldn't help but smile. _It feels good to be recognized and liked. I know it's childish, but – _well, I hadn't really had much chance for anything but survival and paranoia lately. The comforting respite of smiling faces that radiated gratitude was like a breath of fresh air in a septic tank.

Lily ran up and threw her arms around me. She pulled me into a hug that completely threw me off balance physically and emotionally. I stumbled back a step, dropping my cigarette. I regained my balance, then gingerly patted her on the back, unsure what to do.

She released me, stepping back and laughing. "Sorry. I just… thank you. I mean… I still can't believe this is real. I had given up all hope of ever seeing anything but that room again. And now I find E, and like, a whole group of other thin-bloods. It's just… I don't know what to say."

I ran my hand through my hair, smiling sheepishly up at Lily. "Hey, um... no problem. Don't worry about it." I had always been awkward in emotionally intense situations.

"No, seriously, I owe you my life. I can't... I can't even describe what..." She trailed off, her mind distracted by unmentionable terrors that had plagued her for months, by the overwhelming relief and hope that had come from the release from those horrors.

E interjected. "I guess what we're trying to say is: thank you! You brought my Lily back!" Lily smiled, touched by his affection. "She told me all about what happened. I don't know why you helped us, but... your blood's worth bottlin'." E put his arm around his sire. "I'll never let her go again."

I smiled back. "You're welcome, E. Take good care of her." Lily ducked her head, embarrassed.

E looked down at her lovingly for a moment, then back up to me. "We're going to be getting out of LA soon. Too dangerous here. Rosa told us that something big's about to happen, and I don't want to be here when the Jack comes out of the box. Take that for what you will."

"I have some family with a place out in the middle of nowhere in Oregon," Lilly added. "It should be okay for us to stay there." She looked up at E with adoring eyes. "As long as we're together."

A part of me had already become too cynical to think there was any hope for them. But a large enough part of me was still human that I was able to genuinely hope that they would be happy. "How are you planning on eating? Are you going to feed on animals? Is it just you two heading up, or everyone here?"

"Um..." Lily obviously hadn't thought this through completely. "It's a farm, and it's kind of out in the middle of nowhere, so there should be plenty of animals to hunt. I, uh, didn't ask the group – me and E just decided on this... I mean, I don't know if there'd be room..." It was pretty obvious that she wanted the two of them to go live up there alone.

The group, however, was crowded around the two of them, and E's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of everyone coming with them. "Well, I mean, you said the place was pretty big. We could all manage to stay fed, I bet."

"Well, like, I'm pretty sure the other people in the town would start noticing... I mean, it's pretty small and remote and stuff..."

"Yeah, but Lucius here could make all those problems go away, I'd bet!" E looked up at me expectantly. "What do you say, mate? You sick of having to keep doing... whatever the hell you're stuck doing here? I mean, it might be nice, just heading out to the middle of nowhere, staying under the radar and all. What do you think?"

His offer was... tempting. _I could just walk away from all this bullshit with the Camarilla. It wouldn't be bad, leading this little group around. Sure, I'm pretty ignorant of what's going on, but I know more than they do. I could guide them. They'd look up to me – and I could take care of them. _I saw a whole life stretch out in front of me: a life of guiding these thin-blooded companions through the dark, keeping them safe from Sabbat madmen and other dangers, figuring out a way to keep everyone fed on the down low, having friends around all the time... it seemed beautiful and idyllic. Yet... _it's just a dream. If I leave the Camarilla, they'll hunt me down. Could I really run from them forever?_ "Sorry, E. I appreciate it, I wish I could accept – but I don't think it's an option for me."

"You sure, mate? I mean, you seem to be caught in a nasty place. At least from what I can see – if I'm off, just say so. But really, if you're not happy with how things are... well, there's always another way." E just offered me this open, sincere smile – a little shy, unsure of whether this offer was appreciated or not, but genuinely kind and altruistic.

_I could take him up on that offer. Just walk away from it all. Just lead them all out into a new place, help them keep their heads above water, and have people to talk to, who I could relate to. What do I have here? Ridiculous responsibilities and death around every corner. Hell, going with them couldn't be any worse than what I'm going through now._

Still... there was something holding me back. Something that held me here. Or rather, the promise of something. _What? What could possibly be here that would make it worth sticking around?_ _What... of course. Knowledge_. _Serena promised me understanding, the chance to be able to explain this world – the chance to not just be groping blindly through terrifying madness. Very well, then. I'll put up with the Camarilla's bullshit for that. But you better not have been lying to me, Serena._ Of course, I immediately chastised myself for thinking that way. She had misled me before, sure – but only in order to teach me some deeper truth, or to uphold the Masquerade. If I couldn't trust her (even her disembodied voice), then I couldn't trust myself.

Rosa spoke up, her voice booming over all other noise. "This will be your last chance to escape. From here on, you shall be trapped in the maze, with no way out but forward." She blinked, then looked around, confused. She offered a weak smile, which I realized was a reaction to being found in a strange social situation with no idea of what was going on or what she had just said. She stepped back, moving away from the group, trying to slink out of sight.

I considered her words. _If I believe that she can tell the future – and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the claims of oracular power – then this is an irreversible fork in the road. Am I really ready to forsake this chance at escape forever?_ I looked at the smiling innocent couple, and I felt a wave of jealousy and desire wash over me – I wanted to know that kind of intimacy, the intimacy that Serena and I should have shared but were denied. I felt a yawning gap within me, a gap that I knew this group could fill – though they would fill it imperfectly, and there would always be a small void, a nagging doubt in my mind. My mind turned back to the promises of my sire, and though I knew they were a far more remote possibility, I also felt that there, and there alone, would I truly find a way to fulfill myself. _Besides, I just have to go and slash up some paintings and I've got Therese completely on my good side. No, I seem to be on top of things in this new existence. I'll keep at it – I'm sure the worst dangers are already over._

I shook my head and smiled. "Listen, you guys are cool – I'd love nothing more than to hang out with you. But I've got some promises I made to my sire that need to be kept. Besides, I seem to be well on my way to getting some nice connections in this town. So, best of luck to you all. If you don't leave, keep coming back to this spot – I'll try and come by from time to time and hang out when I can."

E nodded. "I gotcha, mate. Just figured I'd offer." He was smiling from ear to ear, like a kid that had found out Christmas was coming early. "Hey, Lily, you feel like hopping in the water? Going for a swim like we used to?"

Lily laughed. "Maybe in a bit, E. I'm still trying to get my head on straight. Go ahead though."

E gave her a quick hug, then all but bolted into the waves, laughing as he went. _God, I wish that kind of innocent joy was attainable for me. Maturity is a bitch._ Lily followed E with her eyes, maternal affection etched on her face. When she looked away from him and over to me, though, I saw the echo of a hollow, haunted look come back into her eyes – and it looked familiar. It looked familiar because I'd seen it in my own eyes when I'd stared into my reflection earlier this night. It was the shell-shocked look of someone who'd lost the ability to be happy in the way E was right now.

The group had dissipated back to the fire. Lily and I were standing alone on the beach, in the darkness beyond the light of the fire. She spoke to me quietly. "Hey, listen, about tonight... what I did... please don't tell E. It's not my fault... I couldn't control it. I've never done anything like that before – I'm no killer."

Those last words stuck with me. _Hadn't I uttered them less than 24 hours ago to Jack? And how many have died by my hand since then?_ Even so, I gave her a reassuring smile. "I understand, Lily. You were starving. A normal human will kill someone if they're starving and they have no other option. I've been in the same situation – where you drain someone dry without meaning to. It's horrifying. You have to remember – you're still a decent being. You can still do good – but you can also cause terrible pain. The beast inside you needs to be caged, kept on a leash – but that beast is still a part of you, and if you neglect it long enough, it will take over again. Do you understand?"

Lily nodded. "Thank you again, Lucius. I wish my sire had bothered to tell me any of this."

My curiosity was now piqued. A number of questions I had about her now resurfaced to consciousness. "Who was your sire? Did you know them? Do you have any idea what a thin-blood is, exactly, or why you ended up as one?"

"My sire was named Rolf."

"Ah. That explains the bail bond." I pulled it out of my pocket. "I found this during my search for you."

She looked at the paper. "Oh, wow! I'm surprised that didn't end up in the trash or something. Yeah, he ended up in jail. He was from Europe originally, and he ended up overstaying his visa. The last time I saw him was when I paid his bail, actually. He ran out on me right after that."

I looked at her with sympathy. "Any idea why he left?"

"Well... Rolf told me that some vampires consider thin-bloods a bad omen and want them destroyed. A thin-blood, from what I've been told, is a vampire whose blood is weaker than most. Rolf wasn't a thin-blood... and apparently I am. I don't know why. Rolf abandoned me. His group wouldn't take me in. They said I was a liability." I could see her face contorted in an expression of emotional pain, of bitter resentment and longing over her desertion. _At least my sire never abandoned me... she was just forcibly taken away._

I put my hand on her shoulder, trying awkwardly to comfort her. "Hey, I've been there. My sire was taken from me almost as soon as I was embraced." I was no longer looking at Lily, but past her, as I was forced to relive the memory. The words simply came out of me. "I was held down and helpless as I watched her head roll off her shoulders before she turned to ash." It felt cathartic to pour that terrible memory out, hard as it was to experience it again. I felt like some terrible weight had been lifted – or at least had become lighter.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh God, I'm so sorry for you! It must have been hell, dealing with that."

"It still is. But life – or, er, unlife – goes on. Still, I can't help but wonder how things would have been if she had lived – how happy we could have been, what questions she could have answered..."

Lily nodded, empathy evident on her face. "I know what you mean. Rolf left me with so many questions. And I... I did the same thing to E. But I didn't want to leave E. He forced me out of his life."

I smiled at her. "I'm sure E is just glad to have you back. Everything's good between you two?"

Her eyes took on a distant look. "This life's been hard on him... both of us." She looked back at me. "But he forgives me. And... and I think everything's going to be all right now. We'll be safe soon." She smiled up at me. "Thank you, again. If you ever need anything at all, please talk to us. Oh! And we should definitely exchange phone numbers or something. I um... don't have a phone at the moment. I kind of lost it when I got strapped to the chair, half a year back. God, half a year..."

I realized that this was true for me as well. "Um, I'm in the same boat. I kind of lost all my possessions recently. Uh... I'll get a new one soon."

Lily nodded. "Same here. I'll make sure we talk before I leave. Anyway, I'm sure E is getting impatient for me to join him in the surf. It is fun, though – swimming at night. You sure you don't want to relax a little and join in?" I shook my head, chuckling to myself. "Well, good luck with whatever it is you have to take care of. You're a great person, and um... well, I know I'm sounding like a broken record now, but thanks. I'll, um, see you around, I guess." With that, she turned and walked into the sea after her childe.

- - - D - - - D - - - D

I stood right outside the door to the art gallery, working carefully to lock the tumblers into place so I could get in and get this job done.

I had grabbed a quick bite to eat from a hooker on my way here, so I wasn't distracted by hunger. That meal had cost me most of my money – but I expected to be making a withdrawal from the charity box soon, so my finances should be set. There had been some overweight security guard blocking the alley that led to the back door I was currently unlocking. I paid attention to him for barely a second – just enough time to cast Trance on him and stroll past. I smiled as the last pin clicked into place. There's something supremely satisfying about feeling a lock yield to your efforts and turn. I opened the door and entered.

The quiet was the first thing I noticed upon entering. After the noise of the streets of LA, the soundproofed building seemed to echo with a deafening silence. As I walked forward, I noticed how bare the walls seemed – the only items of note were four paintings on stands. _I guess the gallery was cleared to show these pieces. May as well take a look at the art I'm about to destroy._

The first piece startled me. The name caught my eye immediately. "Caine kills Abel." The picture itself looked like something out of a plate-glass biblical illustration – though it was quite a bit more gruesome than those you'd find in most churches. Caine was dressed in white rags. The expression on his face was a mixture of hate, horror, tragic grief, and desperate hope. In his hands was clutched a simple spear – just a sharpened piece of wood. It was going directly into Abel's heart. Abel was dressed in red robes , with blood spilled copiously on his chest, beard, face, and the ground. Abel's eyes were glassy and dead. A single tree was outlined in the background – other than that, the landscape was barren.

_Weird... why is Cain's name misspelled, anyway?_ The image and title brought me back to childhood, to hours spent forcibly going over the Bible, reciting verses, listening to lectures on morality from my father. _Bullshit, all of it was just bullshit, of course._ Even so, the memories gave me an unpleasant sensation in my stomach. Looking up at the painting with irrational anger over the memories it had dredged up, I pulled my knife out of its sheath. The blade seemed to sing with some terrible ringing voice. It only encouraged me. I took a final moment to think of what my brainwashed fool of a father would think of me desecrating a religious painting like this. The thought brought a smile to my face.

I planted the knife firmly in a corner of the canvass, then slashed diagonally. It ripped beautifully. I slashed over and over again, ripping the canvass to shreds, mutilating the picture beyond recognizability.

I finally stopped cutting. I stood there, panting unnecessarily. I wasn't quite sure when I'd started picturing my father's face on the damn painting, but I was certain that I'd had immense fun cutting it up. My enjoyment was ruined by a sound that I became aware of as soon as I stilled my breath. Whispering – quiet and menacing. It was gone after a few seconds, but I knew that I had heard it. I looked around, trying to sense anything. I turned on Auspex.

I thought I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned and there was nothing. In fact, nothing seemed different about this room... except... there! One of the paintings seemed to be almost alive. There was a tree that was being consumed in blue flame. The flames danced and shimmered before my eyes, twisting and writhing as though they were actually burning. I wandered across the room to the piece. Caine was here again, this time kneeling before the tree, naked and ashamed. The title read, "Caine Cursed by God." I hesitated this time, unsure of my course of action – some small glimmer of engraved religious superstition stirred in me at the sight of the Burning Bush before me, and I briefly feared some kind of divine retribution for this sacrilege. Then I reminded myself that if all that shit in the Bible about salvation was true, then I was already damned – so it's not like I could fuck up things for myself any further.

I raised the blade and struck. The blue flaming tree split in two, and the shimmering flames died out on both halves. I put a slice through Caine for good measure, but didn't really feel like doing more. The whispering came back again, louder this time – but it quieted down just as quickly as before.

Looking around, I saw that another of the paintings seemed to be moving. Flower petals were slowly falling from the branches of trees that formed an archway on the right the frame's right and left edges. The petals were falling into a blood-red pool that the trees seemed to grow out of. This was far less subtle than the flames – I could clearly see these petals falling, like I was staring at a monitor. Caine and a naked female held one another lovingly. The title read "Caine meets Lilith."

That title sure as hell brought me back. I had been twelve years old. I still actually, genuinely believed the biblical propaganda my parents were trying to stuff down my throat. I was actually _interested _ and _curious_ about some of the things I'd read in the Bible. However, my curiosity was about all the weird shit that never got explained – the Leviathan, the city of Babel, the serpent. _For a book that's supposed to be infallible, it certainly managed to have a lot of lose plot threads that never get tied up._ I'd learned that asking my parents questions about this stuff would only make them upset, so I decided to do some research on my own. This being the early 1980s, there was no such thing as the internet, so I spent time after school at the library, looking up books on the subject. After all, with my parent's strict rules, it wasn't like there was all that much for me to do, anyway. They refused to buy me a freaking video game system because they'd heard that video games were somehow linked to Satanism or Japanese heathen polytheistic worship or some nonsense like that. In any case, it was actually that research session that caused me to begin questioning the truths I had swallowed whole up until that point. One interesting story that stuck with me, however, was that of Lilith.

Lilith, Adam's first wife – who was made before Adam. Some versions say she was made too early, and was defective and base. Others say she was too perfect, and would not submit to her inferior husband, even though God ordered her to. Before Adam had even thought of the fruits of the trees, Lilith had taken and eaten of both the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. Immortal and aware, she was an anathema to God's plan. He cast her out of Eden and put Adam to sleep, taking from his mind memory of Lilith. He then made Eve from Adam – just as he had made Adam from Lilith, some versions said. Lilith, however, walked away from the land and into the ocean. There she found the Leviathan, a terrible abomination of the deeps, which had not been made by God, but had swum in the waters of chaos before the world was made. She learned from it terrible secrets hidden even from the sight of the creator. She returned to land, hiding herself from God's sight with dark power beyond his knowledge, and returned to Eden for revenge. There she found an angel guarding the garden – an angel named Lucifer. Some versions said that Lucifer turned her to darkness, here – others say it was she who corrupted Lucifer. Regardless, they soon found kindred spirits in one another. They became lovers, and taught one another secrets and spells. Lilith then turned into the serpent and tricked her replacement into eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. It was said that while Lucifer was found and cast out of heaven for his part in the Fall of Man, Lilith hid herself from his wrath. She then gave birth to the children Lucifer had fathered – all of which were horrible abominations. And so, Lilith was called the mother of monsters, and the explanation for anything that goes bump in the night was: "It's a child of Lilith."

Of course, the story was considered unofficial and heretical – it involved God making mistakes, beings as old as God, and rebellious mortals being able to hide from and defy God. It got suppressed and didn't make the final cut. Still, supposedly this story more accurately reflected the original Torah, before it was revised to be more monotheistic and make God infallible. It was at this point I came to understand how much the text of the document was in question – I had always been taught that everything in the Bible was exactly what happened, word for word – perfect truth.

I stared at the picture once again, pulling myself back from my thoughts. _I don't remember any story about Caine getting with Lilith. Considering that she was Adam's first wife, that's pretty messed up. Still... so weird that a story that should have so much personal significance should show up here._ I was very hesitant about destroying this painting – it almost seemed to me like it represented a liberating heresy. The knife felt heavy in my hand. _Let's just get it done with and get the hell out of here._

I slashed across the painting in two swift strokes, creating an X. The whispering came back, and this time stayed.

I wasn't sure what to make of this, so I just turned around to try and find the last painting and get out of here. I was stopped in my tracks when I saw the final piece of art.

"Caine Spurns Lilith," the title read. An outline of Caine was walking away from the scene, spear dripping in blood. There were two leafless trees on a barren landscape. The thing that caught my eye was in the foreground, however. Lilith was lying there, cut horribly, stomach ripped open – and she looked pregnant. The picture of her was shaking with sobs. Blood oozed out of her wounds. I could her crying. I felt her agony, the miserable despair of betrayal. I wanted to end this pain. I didn't even think.

I struck out with the knife. Only one slash – but that's all it took. I ran right through Lilith. I piercing scream blasted out from the painting the moment my knife passed through her.

I stepped back, startled. My shock and confusion would only get worse. I saw auras sputtering with all colors fly out from the paintings. I then saw that rings of blood were now forming themselves around them, and the auras were arranging themselves into strange runes and letters around the circle. _I wish I could understand what the words meant, so I could know what's about to happen. _Tendrils of blood shot out of the center of each ring, converging in the center of the studio. A great pool of blood appeared in the floor, and a tendril flew straight into it from above. I looked up and saw that there was a glowing double-circle on the ceiling with more arcane symbols written between the circles. The luxury of idle observation, however, was taken away from me a moment later. A warped, glowing entity was expelled from the pool of blood – expelled as though the pool was in fact a hole. It looked exactly like me, only... made out of blood. I had only an instant to ponder the similarity before it jumped towards me and began slashing with claws that it extended from its hands.

The wounds HURT. I could feel some kind of terrible burning in the gashes he had cut, and my beast was howling like mad. Thankfully, I had the knife in my hand at that moment.

I swung the blade at the bloody apparition. It sliced through creature's arm, which didn't get cut off, as I'd hoped – instead, a little bit of blood simply flew off.

My surprise cost me, as burning claws flew into my face, ripping open my cheek, tearing off the lower eyelid of my left eye and boiling half the eyeball.

I jumped back, clutching the side of my face with one hand, holding up the knife with the other. I immediately started willing my flesh to heal and felt the telltale itching. _Gotta be careful. This thing can hurt me more than I can hurt it. Maybe I should turn and run._

Right at that moment it lunged forward, slashing out at me again. Fear had made me cautious, and blood was blasting through my veins, filling me with adrenaline. I stepped back even as I stabbed with the blade. The claws moved through the space where I had been a moment ago – the space now occupied by my knife.

I struck directly at the claws and arms again and again – I was not happy with them. I did see small pieces fall off the body and impact the ground, shattering like crystal upon impact, with the shards melting into blood a moment later. The damage seemed to be repaired almost as soon as it was done, though.

I backed up as my adversary came at me again – too slow this time. My face was protected by the knife and my hand, so the attacks came low . One slash ripped open my stomach, bits of intestine coming off in the claws. It then held all five fingers together and jammed them into me like a single knife that felt as though it were red-hot. It stabbed right into my genitals.

The instant the claws ran through my balls – causing one to detach entirely and the other to be half-shredded – two things happened at once: I felt the most horrendous, crippling pain I had ever experienced in the whole of my existence, and I started frenzying. I was a being of raw terror. I hacked desperately at the claw in me, slashing with a speed and strength I didn't know was possible. Blood was flying off from its wrist in fountains. I grabbed the other wrist with my free hand and held it back, keeping myself safe..

The claw in my privates finally detached at the wrist, falling out of me, reducing the pain from world-destroying to mind-warping. The claw fell onto the floor, where it shattered and melted. I shoved the thing, causing it to step back. I didn't need any more invitation than that. I turned around and bolted.

I made it to the door and reached out to make my escape. I felt a blast of electric energy fly into me from the knob. Screeching like a wounded cat, a recoiled in terror. I saw a red tendril touching the door that hadn't been there, connecting back to the horror behind me.

It was advancing, trapping me in the hallway. It had regrown the claw it had lost. My knees were shaking. My mind was a coiled mass of fear. Every instinct told me to flee – but there was no place to run to. My reason understood that if I didn't get control of myself, I was going to die. With a raw effort of will, I regained control of myself.

It was right in front of me. In just a moment it would be ripping me apart with those hellish, agonizing claws. I concentrated with all the force of mind I could muster. I chanted the incantations and prayed to a God I had sworn I didn't believe in that this would work on whatever the hell this creature was.

It worked. The thing was bent over, blasting copious amounts of blood out of its mouth, even though the mouth opened to reveal more blood – there was no hole.

I took a moment to let the raw terror melt out of me. I focused on healing – on knitting flesh back together, regrowing lost body parts. All it did was add itching to the agonizing pain. I forced the blood to fill my muscles, to give me strength and speed. Then I rushed forward and started cutting.

I attacked rapidly and wildly. I was trying to do as much damage as I could to this thing. I figured out how to attack with the knife in such a way that one attack could flow into another, allowing me to keep up a stream of sharp death. There was now a sizable puddle of blood collecting around the thing – some from the vomit, some hacked directly off the body.

It pulled itself back under control and lunged at me. I had seen it coming and was backing up real fast. My one nut was now attached and whole, but that didn't mean the pain was anywhere near gone, or that I was about to forget that experience. I sprinted to the far end of the room. The guardian was on its feet now, marching towards me with menace.

I lashed out with my blood, ripping some away from the being, consuming it. The thing kept coming. I pulled out my gun and fired blindly in its general direction. If any of the bullets went into it, I don't think it noticed or was slowed down. _Shit._

I had just managed to get my knife out again when it was upon me. It tried to stab low again. I instinctively stepped back and got my hands between the claws and my crotch – inadvertently putting a sharp knife directly in the path of the claw. Realizing what I'd done, I pushed the knife deeper and cut upwards, slicing the hand in half. It went for my head with the spare claw. I ducked, then quickly stabbed twice at the abdomen while sidestepping away. I'd never fought with a knife before now – but necessity can often be the best teacher.

I circled the entity warily. I could tell it was hurt – a lot of blood was dripping off it, and it seemed to be missing chunks here and there. _I've got to make this quick_. I made the decision to charge. We both must have been thinking the same thing (if the entity could think), because right as I charged, so did it.

With only a moment until impact, I pulled tucked my head behind my hands and put my arms forward. It worked – my arms took the blows. Sure, my forearms now looked a bit like ground beef, but better them than my face or balls.

I immediately retaliated. I landed three quick blows on the head, face, and neck. Copious blood flew everywhere. The thing actually stumbled back. I pressed forward, continuing the attack.

Turns out stumbling back was a trick – which I discovered when it suddenly went on the offensive as I got close, ripping across my face and neck. Precious blood was pouring out of me now, and hunger and fear threatened to overwhelm me again. I kept myself in the bubble. I stepped back and we began to circle one another again.

It seemed to wobble on its feet, and some kind of red steam leaked off of various missing chunks, along with small streams of blood that poured out from the wounds. Of course, I was pretty wobbly myself, and I was leaking blood and missing parts, too. We were both close to death. I waited for it to make the first move, adrenaline pumping through my veins, Auspex making me aware of the slightest movement.

I saw it charge. I blasted out with Blood Strike – I was too weak and hungry for Purge. It wasn't much, but caused it did the trick. My enemy hesitated mid-swipe. That hesitation was enough. I ducked under the arm and sliced up, from balls to chin, before savagely ripping apart its neck and head again.

As I landed my final blow, I saw it begin steaming and bubbling all over. I backed up, unsure what was going on. A moment later, the thing simply dissolved, crashing to the ground in a thousand pieces before melting into a puddle.

For some reason, the ground above the puddle started dripping blood. _Don't know. Don't care. God, I am fucked up right now. Need blood NOW. _I could sense that the stuff covering the ground was inedible. I pulled a blood bag out of my waistband (no room in the pockets – I'd secured it to the back of my jeans using a pair of paper clamps after dropping off the rest of Vandal's "gift" at my apartment.) I drained the bag, relishing the pleasure and warmth, the brief opportunity to escape from the pain and hunger. The sensation was ended entirely too soon, and almost all the blood immediately went to knitting my flesh together – starting with that fucking damage between my legs! The pain and the itching caused my knees to finally give out, and I lay there on the ground, clutching my shins in the fetal position.

I lay there for a minute, shuddering and miserable. I focused all the blood on one single wound – the rest could wait. The itching sensation was maddening – there were a few moments where I was forced to stop. The pain would always come back to me loud and clear though, and pushed me to keep working on healing myself. After what seemed like an eternity, the waves of misery subsided I felt the sense of _wrongness, _of _brokenness_ leave me. I laid there on the floor for a few more seconds, appreciating how euphoric it felt just to not be in misery. Then I pulled myself up. I felt unimaginably good. Sure, I was still covered in gashes, slashes, cuts, and pieces of myself that had been ripped wide open – including my eye. And sure, all those wounds felt like someone had poured hydrochloric acid on them – but my goddamn _balls_ didn't feel that way, and after that everything else just didn't seem all that horrible.

I looked around at the gallery. I had fucked this place up. The paintings were wrecked, and the wooden floor was absolutely covered in blood. I wondered how much was mine, and how much were pieces of that... thing. I wiped my blade on my shirt (again, handy red color) and sheathed it. After tonight, I'd certainly be able to handle this weapon with a bit more skill – not that I'd known a thing about knife fighting to begin with.

I looked around and saw a metal box on the table. I opened it and stuffed the cash in my pocket, glad to get _something_ for my near-death experience. I pulled out a little over $200. _Going straight to a hooker, I thin. Goddamn am I hungry._

Right as I was about to step out the door, I looked back again at the carnage behind me. _Maybe I should have taken up E's offer... maybe I still can. But... I've finished up here. Jeanette tricked me by not telling me about this, true – but still, I've taken out a rival for Therese. It should be all easy from here on out. Just go back to the Asylum, collect my reward, and get this all taken care of. Easy as pie. The worst has got to over...right?_


	16. Chapter 15: No One Loves Me Neither Do I

**I'd like to thank my loyal readers Rednightmare, Stravvberry (and Miss Almond), and Special Agent Orange. Thank you all! In case you haven't noticed, I enjoy making Lucius suffer. What can I say? I'm a bit of a sadist. Of course, so are you all for enjoying it so much... Especially you, Stravvberry. I put in extra gore just because I know you love it so much. :) Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
**

The throbbing blast of the club was almost bearable. The music was at least no longer unpleasant. Truth be told, the last time I'd been up to date with what was going on musically was back in college. 1992 had been an awesome year. My friends had actually managed to convince me to go to a few concerts and festivals. Really interesting time. Still though… _It makes me feel old to admit it, but I really don't understand modern club music_. _Serena had been rather amused when I told her that. I wonder how old she was? How long had it been since she heard music that seemed familiar to her?_ I had been left with far too many unanswered questions about my absent sire. _If only I could find someone who knew her…_

I pulled myself away from my introspection and back into the external world. I was standing on the balcony overlooking the club, leaning on the railing, watching the crowd below gyrate in an almost hypnotic way.

I was taking a well-deserved break, just sitting back and relaxing before I collected my reward. I figured I was entitled to a little snack, too, while I was here. I had dealt with the worst of the hunger, along with the injuries that would have made social interaction impossible. I recalled the way the first hooker I'd come upon had reacted, as I came prowling out of the parking garage. I'd been forced to use dominate to keep her from running, then lie as well as I could to convince her that I had just come from the hospital and everything was alright – I was just looking for a good time, and I'd pay extra. After drinking a good deal of her blood, I sat beside her passed-out figure, focused on fixing the burning injuries. I had cleared the nasty gashes from my face and most of my body – all that was left were impressive-looking scars and small cuts, I recalled from the quick look I'd paid myself in a bathroom mirror.

Even so, I could still go for some more blood – and it would be nice to have the chance to enjoy myself when I fed, rather than having to rush it all. Unfortunately, I really had no idea how to go about convincing someone to get intimate enough with me that such an act would go unnoticed. I sighed, looking around at the crowd, trying to find some solution to the problem that confronted me. None came to mind. I turned around, leaning my back against the railing.

I looked at the empty bottle of wine on the nearby table, wishing it was full of blood. I looked around the balcony, which I had assumed to be empty. To my surprise, I found a young girl – rather attractive, actually – with something of an interesting punk/loner vibe going on, sitting alone, nursing a drink. She looked over at me, smiled, then went back to her drink.

I kept looking at her, trying to figure out how easy it would be to feed on her. At the very least, it was isolated up here. As I was thinking over how to make her a meal, she wandered over to the balcony and situated herself next to me. I wasn't really sure how to break the ice. She broke it for me.

"Is it always this dead in here?" She was now close enough that I could make out her features clearly. She had short brown hair, bright red lips, an athletic body, and bored, brown eyes.

I smiled at her. "This place is beyond dead." _Technically true._

"I thought coming to LA would be more exciting than Arizona! I didn't come all this way for watered-down booze." She rolled her eyes.

I chuckled a bit. I always found the tourists expecting LA to be some glamorous super-wonder amusing. I mean, sure there were some incredible clubs – all of which were entirely too expensive and exclusive for someone like me to ever go to. Most tourists couldn't afford it, either. So they ended up in parts of LA that were... well, just parts of the city. Rundown, crime-infested – places where people lived and worked. Of course, every neighborhood had its share of tourist traps – usually run by hotel managers trying to attract business. _Another yokel who thought this place was all Hollywood or something and blew their vacation. Not that I've ever been out of the state, but... Well, maybe I can give her some glamour and fun. _

"You came to the wrong part of town. Santa Monica is a shithole – I've been pretty much miserable since I showed up here."

"Ugh!" She sighed in frustration. "I didn't expect this place to be so damn straight-edge, you know? I mean, it's like you can't even smoke a fucking cigarette anywhere! In Arizona we can light up in bars and clubs and shit!"

I raised an eyebrow at that. _Guess they're behind the times. California hasn't been that way for about five years. Still... I could go for one. Goddamnit, am I getting hooked? Ah, fuck it. I'm also hooked on blood, and that's a way more fucked-up habit._ As though on cue, the girl pulled a pack out of her purse and popped a cigarette in her mouth while giving me a mischievous smile. I laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"Yeah? That make you scared?" She was bored and rebellious. I smiled, thinking how absurd it was that she found smoking indoors to be dangerous and exciting. _I mean... how many people did I kill last night? I think the fact that I can't remember the exact body count says a bit about my new existence._ Still, I realized that I was instinctively halting myself from smoking out of fear-induced habit. _Fuck it. This is Therese's club, and I'm in good with her. Plus, I can just dominate anyone who gives me trouble._ I pulled a cig out of my own pack and flicked on the zippo lighter. I lit mine, then offered her a light. She was smiling and impressed. We stood there a few moments, just smoking and looking out over the balcony and the dancing crowd, enjoying the nicotine rush.

"Name's Danille."

"Luke." I decided that Lucius, being my kindred name, should only be shared with Kindred and those 'of the blood.' Lucius sounded too unusual.

"Nice to meet you, Luke. So, if this spot's so shitty, why do you hang out here?"

"I'm here for business, not pleasure," I replied.

"What kind of business?"

I realized I'd said too much. "Can't really say."

That had only piqued her interest. Thankfully, she was interested in _me_, not my business. "So what do you do for fun, Luke?" Then, in a whisper, "You know where we could score some weed, or even... coke?"

I was about to instinctively reject her queries harshly – _I've never done that stupid shit in my life! Of course... I'm dead now..._ Dennis's memories forced themselves up, and I realized I'd passed beyond such innocent boundaries a long time ago. A strange, bitter amusement crept over me at the realization of just how much innocence I had already lost. I chuckled even as a nasty expression came over my face. "I could _make_ coke if I felt like it. But I have better things to do with my time. I mean, I could get morphine too, if I wanted. But I..." I looked at the way she was staring at me, completely rapt, hanging on every word. It was strange, realizing I'd seduced her – awkward, antisocial Luke had barely been able to get two words out to girls he didn't know. But, well... maybe it was Serena's trainings, or perhaps the supernatural nature of the blood – or perhaps the thirst for blood was an even better motivator than libido – whatever the reason, I was pulling it off now – barely. I thought for a moment about how best to manipulate her.

"...I've got something way better than any of that. It's just raw pleasure – like nothing you've ever felt." Success. Her eyes were wide and amazed now. I had her. I just needed to get somewhere out of sight – away from the balcony. "You want to try it?" She nodded. "C'mon, let's get a table."

I led us back to a table in the corner, where there was almost no light. We sat close to one another. I could smell her blood, hear her heart pumping with excitement – I wanted her. I leaned in and kissed her. I could taste the blood, just under the skin. I made my way back to her ear, nibbling on it in excitement. I whispered to her. "You're gonna love this." I kissed her neck, once – then buried my fangs into her jugular.

I felt the metallic, delicious substance slip over my tongue, and I felt the light of wonder and life explode in my mind as it hit my throat, my stomach. As it was absorbed into me, I shuddered in delight, feeling the foreign force of the beast retreat, feeling my mind lifted up on a fountain of pleasure and energy as I lived pieces of her life through her veins. I drank slowly and delicately, trying to see as much as I could of her experiences. While I'd seen the minute details of the lives of those I'd drunk at first, lately I'd been only experiencing vague blurs when I fed – as though the blood was being pulled into me too quickly, the images flying by like a video set to fast-forward at high speed.

The most striking thing about her were the landscapes that permeated throughout her memories – beautiful deserts, impossible rock formations that stretched into the sky like bizarre dreamscapes. Her life was one of strange adventure – rock climbing, offroading, campfires in the desert where she took peyote and tripped with friends for days on end – I could barely comprehend it all. It was wondrous. It was like my mind had been opened up to a whole new world – after years spent in cramped cityscapes, toiling away in bureaucratic drudgery, such an open and wild existence was inconceivable to me.

_Why on Earth was she looking for excitement? Her life is beyond incredible! I mean, it makes sense to me that I needed to escape from the prison my life had become. But her? Strange. I guess everyone is trying to escape from whatever they are in some way._

Pleasure and existence of a kind I had never even imagined could exist filled mind, body, and spirit, making me shudder all over. I felt a strange emptiness in my soul fill, if only temporarily. I heard her gasp in wonder. I pulled my fangs out, trying to savor every single taste. I bit into her again, taking a small sip, pulling out, nibbling again... I had become lost in thirst. It burnt white hot and clouded my mind. "Use me up..." she whispered.

Her words startled me, pulling me back from my ecstasy. _Is she realizing what I'm doing? Shit. Masquerade. _ I leaned down and licked the bite marks off hastily, then stood up and walked away, sated and cautious.

I made my way onto the ground floor and headed straight to the elevator. I buzzed up. "Hey, Therese. It's, uh, me, Lucius. I finished the job you asked me to do." The elevator opened almost immediately. I smiled, glad to see that she seemed so eager to see me. I stepped inside, thinking about how gratifying this was going to be as the elevator went up.

The elevator opened into the familiar alcove. I opened the door to Therese's room. As soon as I entered, I felt the air change somehow – like in the Ocean House Hotel, when I'd entered those strange, waving areas. The feeling permeating this space was distinctly furious and vindictive. I had just enough time to consider fleeing, decide against it (I need to see Therese no matter what), enter the room, and close the door before I found myself being verbally assaulted.

Therese looked up with an expression of fury that froze me. "You! What were you thinking?" She pointed an accusing finger, whose long fingernail now resembled a claw. Her eyes stared with a glare that was hot and sharp, piercing my dead heart. I stumbled back and hit the door.

"Wha-"

"The Gallery!" she thundered. "You ruined MY event!" I felt my stomach crash through my body, hit the floor, and keep falling. _Oh god. Oh god. Fuck._ She moved in closer, her high heels clicking against the ground with a sound like bullets being loaded into a gun. Her scowl was a pronouncement of doom, her face twisted into some horrible visage of hate. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

My mind was no longer aware. Raw terror had overcome me. Not the animalistic, bestial fear that would have sent me flying out the door behind me – no, this was worse. I felt like a small child, cowering helplessly in a corner while some terrible, parental authority figure that was far larger and vastly more powerful bore down on me, threatening me with spankings and other physical punishment that terrified me senseless for something very wrong I had just done. I was shaking with greater dread than I had when confronting the blood-guardian or the Ocean House spirit. "B-b-but-"

"Shut up!" she screeched at me, her words cutting off my ability to speak as effectively as if she had removed my larynx. She was looking past me now, talking to herself. "I thought I could control my sister as long as Tung was out of the picture, but nothing's changed!" She returned her attention to me, making me feel insignificant, crushing my ego like a bug. With every ounce of sarcasm she could muster, she dismissed me as insignificant and irrelevant, less than worthless. "I should have known you'd succumb to Jeanette's influence like all the others. Just another pathetic fledgling that she plays with like a doll. But how dare you!"

"I didn't!" I was desperately protesting my innocence. _I didn't want to get involved with that crazy bitch! Shit!_

"Don't lie to me!" Therese spat the words back at me, filling me with shame. I wanted to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness, but I was too terrified to even move. "Jeanette already confessed that she had you do it. I'm sure it was all Tung's idea – I'll deal with them later." Her baleful eyes bore into me, feeling like two beams of sunlight blasting straight into my heart. "But that does not excuse you for getting involved with them and destroying my exhibit!"

I literally fell on my knees. I held my hands out like a helpless supplicant. "I thought I was doing it for you! Jeanette tricked me – she told me the gallery event was being held by a rival of yours!"

Her eyes narrowed into daggers of accusation. "How _dare_ you insult my intelligence with that _pathetic_ fabrication!" Her words hit me like physical lashes, and I fell down onto all fours. "Unfortunately for you, Jeanette is as discreet as she is intelligent." She reached into her pocket and pulled out an opened letter – the one I'd given Jeanette earlier. _Oh dear god, no. What the fuck did you give me, Knox?_ "I found it her dresser. It's correspondence from Tung. It's how I know Tung came up with the idea to destroy my exhibit – because this letter is how he conveyed it to her!" She was shoving it in my face, crushing it in a clenched fist. "And you delivered it to her!"

She backhanded me with such force that I was knocked over onto my side. Every instinct within me told me to run, but I was paralyzed, frozen, pathetic. I lay there on my side, feeling like I was on the verge of tears. "I, I didn't, I- I didn't know... I'm so sorry!"

"Shut up!" she screamed again. She kicked me onto my back. She then planted her high heel directly on top of my chest – and that's when I got a good look at her shoe for the first time. That was when I realized that her stiletto heels were very sharp – and wooden. And one was situated right above my heart. My bestial instinct was now kicking into overdrive – to the point that I could overcome whatever it was that had kept me frozen before. _Too bad that doesn't do me any good right now. All she has to do is step down and I'm paralyzed. I'm fucking helpless._

She leaned down, her face conveying depths of disgust and disdain. "I would be completely within my rights to kill you right now, after what you did to my gallery. I have the security footage to prove it. I'm certain LaCroix would condone it after the fact." _Oh god, yeah, he would – he's probably been hoping this would happen to me._ "So tell me, Lucius: is there any reason at all why I shouldn't stake you and kill you slowly? Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

It was strange, but that last biblical phrase set me off somehow – I was suddenly very terrified of what would happen to me if I died. _Serena said our souls die with our bodies. I'm not ready for oblivion. Oh god, what... _Serena's words came back to me. "_It is in our darkest hours that we must adhere most __intently to calm and reason. When all seems hopeless, only the strength and flexibility of your mind can save you."_

I pulled back into the bubble, as well as I could. I looked at the letter in Therese's hand. I recalled why I had given it to Jeanette – primarily because she had been manipulating my emotions the same way Therese seemed to be doing. I gave it to Jeanette to appease her. _If only I had something that... the locket!_ I reached into my pocket. I felt the heel-stake push into my chest. I realized that it must look like I was going for a weapon. "I have something for you! It's the object from the Ocean House Hotel – I think the spirit is gone!" I felt the pressure ease up on my chest, felt the heel come out. I pulled the locket out and held it up.

Therese's eyes widened. She bent down to pick it up, accidentally impaling me in the process. I went limp, arm dropping the locket out of her reach. She pulled her heel out and placed it on the floor. She was standing upright now, holding out her hand to me. Coughing, I managed to pull myself up onto my knees, pick up the locket, and place it into her outstretched hand.

She stared at it intently, oblivious to me. I slowly, cautiously stood up while she wasn't looking, backing away carefully, eying the door, trying to figure out if I could bolt out of here quickly enough. I glanced back at her just as her eyes turned back to me, so thankfully she didn't catch me in the act of trying to run away. There was even the glimmer of a smile on Therese's face. "Well, it seems you did, in fact, fulfill your side of our original agreement. Quite a surprise – I had assumed that Jeanette convinced you to turn on me after you failed in my task. With this, I can clear out the spirit completely and possess a remarkably valuable piece of property. However..."

Her eyes narrowed, and I felt pinned against the wall and impotent once again, though now I had a sliver of hope that I might be allowed to live. "Jeanette claimed you did it for her – but let's say I believe you. After all, you've acted decently and rationally up until now." I felt the terror and the shame lessen – but they were far from gone. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time that Jeanette has tricked an ally into acting against me." She looked back at the locket, then placed it in her suit pocket. She was now staring at me the way she had been at the locket – and it suddenly occurred to me that she was reading my aura. _She knows Auspex! Of course she does. It might be common to every Kindred for all I know. _"I imagine that you'd still like me to call off the feud?"

My eyes widened and my heart leapt at the prospect of actually getting my task accomplished and staying alive for the rest of the night. I could only nod, mutely and enthusiastically. A dismissive but amused grin made its way onto her face. "Very well. I'll call off the feud. There's only one problem. I made some threats against my sister. Idle threats – involving fire and her impious satin sheets. She took them quite seriously and is hiding from me. If Tung gets word that I threatened Jeanette – which he most certainly has – it's not likely he'll believe me when I call off the feud. So, in order for me to call off the feud, you're going to have to convince Jeanette to forgive me first."

_Great. Figures. Well, at least I'm alive. That's always something to be thankful for._ "Whatever needs to be done to fix this problem for you, Therese – I'm more than happy to help you."

She smirked at my obvious attempt at flattery – but she also smiled a little. She enjoyed that kind of treatment – but she also knew when it was being faked. _Well, I mean, I would do anything to get off her shit list right now – I kind of have no choice, as she pointed out to me. She could get the Camarilla after me whenever she wanted. Rosa was right – even if I ran away, she could have me hunted down. There's no escaping now – I'm trapped in this insanity; I missed my one exit._

"I want you to meet with Jeanette and explain that my threats were said in the heat of the moment. I asked her to meet me at the Surfside Diner, but she made it clear that she didn't trust me enough to be willing to meet face-to-face. I suppose you will do as an intermediary – she seems to like you, but you are, in fact, completely loyal to me – right?"

I nodded enthusiastically, and I meant it – _as nasty as Therese is, at least she's not crazy – I understand why she's mad, even if she's going a bit over the top. It's really Jeanette's fault this shit is happening to me. I may not be loyal to or even like Therese, but I'd much rather stay on her good side than Jeanette's. _"I swear to you, Therese, I don't want anything to do with your crazy bi-harpy of a sister. It's her fault I'm in this mess – you've been straightforward with me. I won't believe her lies again, I promise."

That brought a full smile to Therese's lips. _Thank god. She can see through my aura that I mean it. _"For all her unwholesome diversions and irritating disruptions, I should be less tolerant of her. She is my sister, however, and I suppose I am obliged to forgive her her trespasses." The biblical phrase set my mind off again. _Does she believe that crap? Explains the paintings I ruined – and why she's so upset I destroyed them._ "I did sire her, after all." My eyes widened at that. _That's a bit of a weird family dynamic._ "I'd like you to go to the diner and promise her that I won't take any action against her. Wait for her in the back booth, near the payphones. Be quick about it."

I did my best to put on a smile and as subservient a tone as I could pull off. "Whatever the Baron of Santa Monica desires." She nodded at me, dismissing me.

It took every ounce of my will to leave the room politely and slowly, instead of fleeing out like a pig that just barely managed to escape the slaughterhouse.


	17. Chapter 16: Well, shit

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing! This is a short but intense chapter. I'm in a bit of a rush, so I won't take time to respond to each review, but thanks Flying Frog (don't worry about taking your time – and having a job clearing sewers seems cool to me, though I'm sure actually having to do it probably removes most of the fun), Stravvberry, and of course Rednightmare – I understand why you couldn't review due to no internet, but you've already read my chapter and shown it love. Enjoy!**

I stood next to The Asylum, seeking shelter from the downpour.

I took another drag on a cigarette. I needed to relax. I looked out at the sheet of water.

_How the fuck did the rain come back so fast? Fucking tropical storms. _"When it rains, it pours." I laughed at my own double-entente. Several people gave me strange looks. I didn't care. I was so beyond caring about a lot of things at that moment.

_These storms always happen this time of year. Hurricanes, too. Fuck, wouldn't that be hilarious? If one of those started coming my way. Although, I could survive here longer than humans could. I wonder how much I could loot..._ I laughed again at my own thoughts. I got looks again. I still didn't care.

_We've been seeing a lot of these lately. I wonder if it's because of global warming? They say the oceans will rise and swallow the whole LA valley. That would be crazy – everyone would have to leave. What about the vampires? Could they stay? I mean, no need to breathe. No blood though. Ha! They could have underground bubbles and just keep people imprisoned in there._ I was now laughing uproariously to myself. People were moving away from me.

Suddenly, the deluge stopped. I mean, it continued raining somewhat, but the sheet of water moved past us like a wave – first the waterfall coming off the awning stopped, then the water wall moved away like a solid entity. I watched it move across the street and reveal the diner where I was supposed to meet Jeanette.

I sighed. _Okay, enough escapism. Enough fucking around. Time to deal with the task at hand. Goddamnit._ I'd thought about running – consequences be damned. _But that would look incredibly incriminating – to the point that I could probably be convicted in whatever passes for a court of law among the Kindred. Actually, at this point, all Therese has to do is accuse me and I'm dead. I feel like I'm perched on the edge of a cliff – all it would take is a strong breeze to send me flying over into oblivion. _My existence felt very precarious. I felt like the diner ahead of me was the gaping void of my own death that I was staring into.

_C'mon now. No need for such melancholy, goth shit. So I fucked up. So I was tricked by Jeanette. Live and learn. I just need to not fall for her bullshit again. I've got this under control. I just need to meet with Jeanette and... and just meet..._

_Who am I kidding? I have no idea what's going on. I need to get that into my head – I'm completely in the dark. So what should I do at this point? I mean, I can't just sit here in fear of what might happen if I go forward. I need to make a decision: either run the hell away, or man up and do this. No matter what I do, though, I need to have my wits about me. I've gotta think on my feet. I've to be able to pick out the threats and targets and dangers, social or otherwise, or there's no way I'm surviving the night._

I threw the butt of my cigarette into the street. I took a deep, clear breath, then walked across the street into the diner.

The place was still a dilapidated, rundown mess. Dolores was still hunched over the cash register, looking like some hunchbacked peasant, bent and broken from years toiling in the field. She looked up briefly, recognized me, and gave me a smile. "Good to see you again. Did you ever manage to find that sweet girl, Lily?"

I smiled back at her. "Yeah, actually. It's a good thing you gave me that backpack. She was in a pretty bad situation. It's a good thing I caught up to her when I did. But she's okay now," I reassured her when I noticed the look of concern on her face.

She gave me a bright smile that cracked through her mask of dead indifference. "Oh, that's so wonderful to hear. She's such a sweet girl. You know, I could tell that she was in a bad way. Just something about the way she was staring out at nothing, you know? It was the look of someone stuck in a situation they needed to get out of, but just couldn't."

I tried to give her a smile back, but it cracked at the edges. _That hit a bit close to home. Ah, well. Even if I can't get myself out of this situation, at least I was able to help Lily._ That's when I noticed Dolores starting at me strangely. I snapped out of my introspection, blinking and coming to. "Sorry. I was just..."

She gave me a nod of matronly understanding. "It's OK. I get it. You're in a bad way, same as Lily. But you seem good at heart. I'm not going to lecture you, since I don't know what led you to the place you're in. Just... try and stick to whatever you believe in, and don't lose yourself to whatever you've fallen into. Now, can I get you anything?"

I was truly grateful for her concern. She knew nothing about me – yet she called me a good person. Did she have some kind of insight I couldn't understand? Or was she simply basing this on what little interaction she had experienced with me? In any case, it was comforting to me that this old woman was touched by the plight of both Lily and myself, after so many years of seeing freak after freak, of soul-crushing work. I gave her a heartfelt smile and responded, "Just water, thanks."

She handed me a glass. "There you are dearie. You come back if you need anything else." I went on my way, heading to the back of the place.

I sat down at an empty booth, nursing my drink. There was no one back here. I took a look around, hoping I'd see Jeanette soon – though I wasn't looking forward to having to talk to her.

I noticed the group of 5 young men in the booth next to the door right as they were all getting up. I realized they were pulling guns out. Then I realized two of them had shotguns right as they were being leveled at me.

_Well, shit._

I dived for the ground right as the roar of thunder erupted in the diner. I felt hot lead tear through me as I was on my way down.

I scrambled to pull myself next to the counter. I heard screaming from somewhere. I pulled my gun out of my pocket.

The gunfire stopped. I poked my head over the top. The gunfire started again, and I felt my ear get ripped to shreds by the impact of a bullet before I could pull my head back down.

Chunks of the counter were being blasted off by the force of the bullets and shells. Hunched down behind my makeshift cover, I pointed my gun over the top and fired blindly in the general direction of the thugs. Unfortunately, my gun ran out of bullets quickly. _Fuck! I've never loaded a gun before. Let's see, what do I hit to make that thing that the bullets go in pop out?_ I fumbled with my weapon while gunfire continued to erupt. The spent casings tumbled out of the gun. I reached into my pocket, pulled the bullets out, and tried my best to keep my hands from shaking as I loaded them in one by one. I was so single-mindedly focused on the task at hand that I didn't realize one of my assailants had moved close to me until I felt the barrel of his shotgun press against my head.

I looked up like a rabbit staring into the jaws of a wolf.

_Oh god. You've got to be kidding me. I can't die like this. _Adrenaline was forcing the blood to flow through my veins. I tried to whip my gun up quickly enough to kill the guy. I wasn't fast enough.

He pulled the trigger and blew my brains out the back of my head.

I fell back and hit the floor.

I felt the cold embrace of oblivion grasp me. I felt the supernatural force that held me together begin to dissolve. I felt like I was burning up, like all the energy that animated me was about to be released in an explosive act of destruction.

_No! I am NOT going to die like this! Not after everything I've been through!_ _I won't be killed in some piece of shit diner by a bunch of human thugs!_

_**Damn straight. Let's get back up and turn these fuckers into a thick red paste.**_

It would occur to me later that I probably could have just laid there, pretending to be a corpse, and waited for them to leave. At that moment, however, I was more than happy to hand the controls over to my Beast.

I focused my will. I felt myself pulling back into my body. I desired awareness of my surroundings. The nerves in my head began rebuilding themselves, recreating pathways required to move information from my senses to... whatever the hell part of the brain keeps the soul informed of what's going on. I was aware that the man was standing over me, laughing to his friends, who had come over behind him. I desired the ability to move. Large parts of the missing brain had been rebuilt – but it wasn't a solid mass. It was more like crooked lines and pathways were now filling the hole, like some kind of strange cobweb. When I needed the brain to perform a function, those nerve pathways were rebuilt – in the same way that nerves or cells are temporarily reanimated when I use them.

My beast and I leapt to our feet. The man who had tried to kill me stared in shock. I must have made quite the sight, what with the gaping hole in my head and all. Still, I like to think it was the look in my eyes that really stuck fear into the guy.

He tried to raise the shotgun again. My Beast and I were not having that.

We leapt at him, knocking him back and onto his back, right next to his companions. We shoved our fangs directly into the fucker's heart. The warm lifeblood pulled into us, filling us with raw power and pleasure. We felt the nerves stitch themselves together, the skull growing out to cover up the holes.

I felt bullets blasting into me, ripping flesh and bone, tearing me apart. Keeping my fangs in the heart, I pictured the symbols in my mind, burning my blood sending out the energies of Purge. For a brief moment, I felt like I was in some strange sort of Nirvana. Like I was a conduit for the energies of the universe. I was simultaneously draining blood and using it to repair my dead flesh and warp the fabric of reality. I felt like I was the fulcrum upon which the world balanced.

Then Purge kicked in and the guys shooting me were hunched over and vomiting out pieces of their intestines.

I sucked long and hard on my assailant's heart. I knew it hurt him horribly and I was glad. _It fucking hurt when you blew my brains out, asshole. _I felt his life end and come into me, and I quivered in ecstasy.

I pulled out of his chest, licked my lips, and looked around. I grabbed his shotgun from the ground and stood up. His four companions were hunched over, their eyes wide with a terrible fear. I picked out the other thug with a shotgun, raised the barrel to his skull, and pulled the trigger.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as his head arched back, and pieces of grey matter seemed to float in midair. It was strangely beautiful, in a way I still don't understand. I couldn't help but notice that some of the grey matter was, in fact, white. I watched him fall to the ground on top of a small pile of his own brains.

I turned to the next person, put the gun up to their head, and pulled the trigger. The gun was out of ammo. _Shit. Only two shells in the barrel. No time to reload._ I dropped the weapon and grabbed the other shotgun that was lying next to the brainless corpse I'd just made. I proceeded to do the same to two of his companions.

As I turned to the final thug, he finished vomiting and tried to run. I grabbed the empty shotgun by the barrel and swung the butt at him. It connected with his skull and knocked him onto his ass. I jumped on top of him, pinning him. He looked up at me with a raw fear in his eyes that was extremely satisfying. I buried my fangs into his neck.

I took a bit of time with him, trying to figure out who had sent these guys by looking through memories. It was all jumbled. He had become involved in crime from an early age, and the gang leader (the one who'd splattered my brains on the linoleum floor) took orders from someone the guy had never met. All I could see were brief bursts of violence, and long periods of selling drugs, sitting around, and enjoying a generally undisciplined, lazy, and hedonistic lifestyle. I drained his life away and got off his corpse.

I looked around at the scene of carnage, breathing heavily. _Better them than me. It's not like they were contributing to this world, anyway._ I noticed that the handguns they had possessed clips, rather than being six-shooters. I grabbed one and the two other clips. Then I reached into the pocket of one of the gang members. _Score. Wallet's full of cash._

Further looting was halted by the distant sound of sirens. _Shit. Gotta get out of here._ However, that sound was immediately followed by the ringing of a payphone nearby. _What the..._ I considered ignoring it and running, but I knew this couldn't be coincidence. I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

Therese was on the other end. _Was she the one who tried to have me killed? Or was that Jeanette?_ Therese answered the question in my mind. "I'm terribly sorry about that. My sister was just furious about your refusal to take part in her designs, so she sent those men to kill you. But I'm going to make sure it never happens again. Drop by, we'll take care of this Tung business."

I smiled in relief. _Ah, good, reliable Therese. I should have known that Jeanette was the one who set this madness up. It seems like too much to hope that things could actually be resolved soon._ Of course, it wasn't simple. Jeanette's voice screamed out from the receiver in terror. "She's crazy! She's the one trying to kill you! Help!"

The line went dead. _You have got to be fucking kidding me._ I sighed and hung up. I turned around to try and leave before the cops showed up. Right as I got near the door, I was stopped by a gut-wrenching sight.

There was Dolores, slumped over the counter, her brains leaking out of her head onto the cash register she had toiled her life away at. I felt like I was going to puke. _Those sick fucks... why the hell did they shoot her? Or did... oh god... when I was just shooting blindly, did I... No. No, it couldn't be. No. I couldn't... No, they shot her because they're violence-obsessed freaks, and she was a witness. I avenged her death by killing them. Her death can't be my fault..._ But I never did manage to convince myself completely. I will spend eternity haunted by the possibility that a blindly fired bullet from my hand was responsible for her death.

I was pulled from my horrified reverie by the sound of a loudspeaker. "We have the building surrounded! Come out with your hands up and everything will be easier! You're either getting out of here in cuffs or a body bag. It's up to you which way you leave."

Clearly walking out the front door was no longer an option. I ran to the back of the diner, away from the windows, hoping they didn't have a picture of my face yet. _Shit. What do I do? _I saw the door to the bathroom and went in, hoping I'd find some way out of here.

The place smelled as bad as it looked, and it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in about a decade. I didn't really care at that moment. I looked around, hoping there was something I could do. I saw a window – small, but I could probably crawl out without too much trouble. I grabbed my tire iron and smashed out the glass. I pulled myself up, cutting my hands on the broken glass. In fact, I managed to cute up my everything crawling out through the unwashed, tight-fitting aperture filled with broken glass – but I managed to crawl out.

I was most of the way out when I heard a voice. "Freeze! Stop right there!" A cop was here in the alley behind the diner, pointing his gun right at me. He reached down and grabbed his radio, bringing it up to his mouth. "Suspect apprehended fleeing from the scene. Require backup. Current location-"

"Stop!"

He froze in place, but continued to stare at me intently, pointing his gun squarely at me. Serena had once mentioned that strong-minded people were hard to Dominate, especially if one was obvious about its use, but I didn't really have a choice right now. I pulled myself out of the window and dropped to the ground.

He managed to speak again as I was getting myself up. "Current location-"

"Stop!" I pushed with all my will, but he wasn't budging. I pulled my newly acquired gun out of my pocket. Seeing that weapon set off something instinctual in his mind, and he pulled out of his trance.

He began immediately firing his weapon at me, shouting into his radio, and backing up. "Current location: back alley. Suspect armed and dangerous! Resisting arrest! Suspect appears to have some kind of supernatural-"

His words were cut off by a bullet to the head. I had opened fire and started running towards him as soon as he came out of his trance. I couldn't aim for shit, but if you fire off enough bullets and get close enough, you're bound to hit your target eventually. He certainly had better aim than me – most of his rounds and blasted holes in my already abused flesh. I felt like I was made of paper mache – I was so full of holes, a strong breeze could probably blow me away. _But I'm still alive, and I need to move._

I looked around. Only two exits – both next to the diner. They'd be watched. As though on cue, I saw a cop look in at one exit. He stared for a moment at the image of me standing over a police officer's body with a smoking gun, then drew his own weapon and began firing.

_Shit!_ I looked around, desperately trying to find a way out. The answer was lying under the body of the cop I'd just killed. I kicked him aside to reveal a way into the sewer.

Pulling my tire iron out, trying my best to ignore the gunfire flying through the alley – almost all of which was missing me, thank God – I started unscrewing the bolts a fast as I could. In a moment of insight, I grabbed the screws and pocketed them. I wedged the thin end of the tire iron into the gap between the manhole and the street and pulled, prying it up. I saw that police were now running down the alley towards me.

I dropped down into the sewers, letting the manhole fall closed over me. Holding onto the ladder, I took the screws and screwed them back into the holes from the other side, securing the cover in place. _Good luck following me that way._

I hopped down from the ladder and began running with no direction or destination in mind, just trying to flee the scene of the crime as fast as I could.


	18. Chapter 17: Through Broken Glass Darkly

**I'd like to start with a huge thank you to SpecialAgentOrange, Stravvberry, and of course RedNightmare for reviewing. You guys rock! And thank you to all you readers out there who may not have left a review. If my story can entertain you at all, then I'm happy.**

**I want to get to the story as soon as possible, as this is one of the best parts of the game we're getting into. I'd like to point one thing out though. I just realized that the woman at the counter of the diner in the game is named Doris... I name her as Dolores... Um... Clearly this was intentional. Doris was a bitter, sardonic old woman. Dolores is a kind and sweet old lady who is clearly my OC. I wrote her that way so that her death would be meaningful. Okay, so my ass is officially covered. Definitely not a mistake on my part.  
**

**Finally, I'm not one to tell you what to listen to when you read, but if you want my suggestion, but on "Master of Puppets" by Metallica once Lucius reaches the club. Definitely works here.**

**Oh, and I originally wanted to name this chapter "Through a Broken Looking-Glass Darkly" but there wasn't room in the title space. Two references in there – see if you can spot them both! And with that, let's get this underway!**

- - - - - - - - - – -

I ran through the sewers until I was out of breath. Then I kept running because I remembered that I didn't need to breathe.

My corpse felt like it was held together with twine. I had been trying to heal constantly, running constantly – I only slowed down to grab any passing rats for feeding. I seemed to be getting a little better at stitching my body back together – at least I seemed to be able to do it for longer. _I still can't believe I survived that shotgun blast. I think it might have been because it was so close – it hit with more force, but over a smaller area. It only blasted a hole through my head, instead of blasting most of it off. I mean, the barrel was pressed right up against my skull. Guy probably thought he looked badass, killing me execution-style with a shotgun. Ironic, since that cost him his life and saved mine. Still, I'm lucky as shit to still be alive._

My clothes were in tatters – not that I cared. At least my skin no longer was. I stumbled and fell flat on my face. I lay there for a moment, enjoying the feel of the cool concrete on my skin. _How long have I been running and healing? It seems like forever. _I pushed myself up. I brushed myself off. I leaned against the nearby wall. I listened for the sound of sirens, or footsteps, or breathing, or... anything. I was straining with Auspex. Nothing.

I was finally able to relax. I would have let out a sigh of relief if I was holding any air in my lungs. I turned around and quickly exited the sewers from a nearby ladder.

The manhole opened into a dark alley full of sleeping bums. _Jackpot._ I fed on one, then stole the hoodie he was using as a pillow. It was absolutely filthy – but it hid my face and my gunshot-filled shirt. The gunshot-filled jeans just looked ratty – combined with the hoodie, I just looked like another bum. _I have no idea whether they got a description of my face floating around on the news. I need to be careful. _I was extremely paranoid at the moment. I wasn't sure whether ending up on the news counted as a violation of the Masquerade or not. I was sure that LaCroix would find a way to make it seem like one if it was possible. That thought led me back to the threats Therese had leveled against me, regarding the evidence she had that could get me killed. Which in turn reminded me of Jeanette's claim – that Therese was the one trying to have me killed.

_I don't need to think about this shit right now. I need to know whether or not I'm going to end up on America's Most Wanted._ I drank from another bum and then headed out into the street. I recognized nothing. I just started walking, hoping I'd find a cab. I smoked while I walked because it was something familiar I could do. I was rapidly finding comfort in not only the sensation, but also the reminder of my immunity from natural death. It let me delude myself into thinking that I might actually survive the night.

Eventually a cab came down the road. I hailed it. The driver rolled down the window and looked at me suspiciously. "Where to?" I thought for a moment. The only address I knew in Santa Monica was Mercurio's, so I gave him that. He raised an eyebrow. "That upscale apartment building? I'm going to need at least forty bucks up front."

I looked at him strangely. I'd never heard of a cabbie requiring fare up front. Then I realized how I was dressed. _I wonder if bums just use taxis to get around town and sprint without paying? Makes sense._ I pulled opened my wallet, making sure to make my copious cash visible to him. I pulled out two twenties handed them over. He nodded and I got in the cab.

I spent the ride with my head down, trying to keep him from seeing my face. I listened to the radio in hopes of hearing a news bulletin – but the station was in Spanish, so I learned nothing. As we came out of a tunnel, I saw Tripp's Pawn. "Hey! You can drop me off here." I handed him the money and left quickly.

As I entered the alley, I couldn't help but notice the police tape closing off an area behind the dumpster. Thankfully there were no actual police here – _I suppose they must all be over at the diner._ Even so, the chalk outline marking where they had found Sherry's corpse was extremely unsettling. I unlocked the door and hurried into the building, all but running up the stairs to my room.

I slammed the door behind me and bolted it. I looked around my haven. It felt safe and secure. Familiar. Reassuring. I wandered over to the window and looked out to see if there were any cops amassing outside. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I finally relaxed, glad that I didn't have to be constantly in a state of paranoia – at least for now. Even so, I drew the blinds down in case I could be seen from the street. I took the hoodie off and threw it into a corner. The thing smelled like piss, and I didn't want to wear it if I didn't have to – but if I had to go unseen, I'd need it.

I slid into the chair, trying to collect myself. All I could think of was knowing whether I needed to go on the run or not. The thin-bloods were looking like an increasingly attractive option – but we'd have to leave _tonight._ I turned on the TV and started scanning channels. _Late night game shows, infomercials,_ _televangelists, soap operas... isn't there any goddamn news on? I just shot up a fucking diner! What does it take to make the news these days? _Right as I was about to give up, a soap drama about a man who was having his life taken over by a doppelganger was interrupted.

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important news bulletin. At approximately 3:30 AM, a local mom-and-pop establishment known as 'Surfside Diner' was the site of what police believe was a gang shootout. All but one of the individuals involved in the violence appear to have been killed. Dolores Spannungsbogen, the co-owner of the diner, was also killed, though police have not determined whether her death was intentional, or simply a by-product of the gunfight. We now go to Jennifer, live at the scene."

The television cut from the dry studio with the newscaster in a brown suit to a scene of hectic emergency responder commotion and a female reporter in a crisp grey power suit and perfectly arranged hair. "Thanks, Don. The scene here is one of absolute carnage and terror. We're still sorting through the details, but from what we understand, there was some sort of fight over gang territory. The Surfside Diner has been owned by an old couple for as long as anyone can remember, and the most tragic casualty of this event was the wife and co-owner, Dolores, who was brutally shot in the head. The only witness to the violent shooting was the husband, Vladimir Spannungsbogen, who claims to have seen almost nothing, as he was focused entirely on running the kitchen before the violence, and trying to escape to the back room once he heard gunfire. At this time the police have only one suspect they're trying to apprehend and question – all others involved in the shootout have been killed. The suspect was seen fleeing the scene into the alley behind the diner. He was spotted by officer Branson, who was fatally shot and killed. The suspect appears to have escaped into the sewers, and his current whereabouts are unknown. The police currently have no description of the killer, but encourage anyone with information to come forward and assist in the investigation. The police force also encourages all residents of Santa Monica to stay inside tonight until this killer is apprehended, as they should be considered armed and dangerous. Please report any suspicious activities you witness, and help the force track down this terrible murderer. Back to you, Don."

I turned off the TV and fell back in my chair. _Okay. So the cops don't have a description. I can show my_ _face in public. My new existence isn't completely over._ _Okay… so what do I do now?_ Now that the visceral panic had subsided, I was left with a terrible, sinking dread in its place. After all, it's not like I was safe. In fact, things would have been easier if I had to run away from LA – at least then I'd know the main threat to my life and how to deal with it. Now I had to figure out who exactly was trying to kill me, and why. _Jack was right – it's the politics that are going to get me killed._

I pulled the chair over to the desk and booted up the computer, hoping for a distraction, instructions, something. There was nothing in my inbox but spam. _Naturally. LaCroix is more than happy to demand fastidious reports and heap impossible tasks on me, but heaven forbid that he help me actually accomplish any of this. After all, the whole point of this shit is to get me killed. I suppose I could try asking for help… but considering that LaCroix wants me dead, reporting failure is probably not the best idea._

Shutting down my computer, I sighed, trying to figure out how to navigate this madness. _So one of the Voerman sisters tried to have me killed. Therese is the one who could destroy me through the Camarilla, and may have tried to kill me in the diner. On the other hand, Jeanette is crazy and has lied to me before. She could just as easily have put the hit out on me. And Therese let me live after events made me look like a co-conspirator of Jeanette's. Although… she could have faked that mercy and tried to have me killed in the diner. But why? I mean, she could have staked me and dragged me in to court. Why go through all the trouble with me? Unless she was lying about that. Well, I mean that sort of thing might normally not get me killed, I imagine, but with LaCroix wanting me dead it definitely could. But, she couldn't know that…_

_Dammit, there's no way to be sure of anything! I'm just going to have to pick a side and hope I'm right. I've been honest with Therese, and as far as I can tell, she's been honest with me. I just… I just have to hope that she's not interested in having me killed. I just have to have faith that Jeanette has been the one doing all this to me. Because at this point, if Therese wants me dead, I'm dead. She could even end up getting me killed to without meaning to. So I just have to go back to the Asylum and suck up to Therese. If Jeanette is there, and Therese isn't… then I turn around and_ _run. Head down to the beach and tell them to pack up their things, get the hell out of here._

I closed my eyes and calmed myself down. I put the hoodie back on, just in case a cop recognized my distinct red shirt. I had a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than the impotence and terror that had consumed me. Even so, it felt like a terrible physical effort to get up and get out the door. _C'mon, it's going to be okay. I have a plan for what to do if I see Therese. I have a plan if I run into Jeanette. I've got all my bases covered. It's going to be okay. I mean, the situation in The Asylum can't be any crazier than what I've been dealing with so far._

As I made my way down the street, I considered stopping by Mercurio's. _Nah. What could he tell me that would help? All I can do is drag him into this shit. He's dealt with enough. I have to do this myself._ I walked on, past the last friendly haven that I knew, marching toward the madness of The Asylum.

I barely heard the music, barely saw the crowd when I entered. I'd fastidiously avoided looking over at the diner as I walked in, keeping my head in the hood. I headed straight for the elevator, practicing all the responses to all potential scenarios, convinced that I'd thought of everything. _I know what to say if they're both there, arguing with each other. I know how to handle each on their own. I'm in control. _

I buzzed up. "Hello. It's me, Lucius." I tried to keep it as neutral as possible – I had no idea who I might be dealing with. After a long pause, the elevator opened without a response from upstairs. I entered and ascended, ready for anything. I opened the door to their room.

Therese was standing in front of the bathroom door, pointing what looked like a hand cannon at it, as she swayed back and forth. _Okay. They're fighting. I've got a plan for this._ "Therese?"

My plans evaporated as she turned. My brain had trouble processing what I was seeing. Confused, I moved in closer. Then I saw it, and I think my thoughts short-circuited.

Half of Therese's face was done up in makeup like... Jeanette. _No. Oh god no. There has to be some kind of rational explanation..._ My mind tried to hold onto the belief that this was Therese and only Therese – after all, it was Therese's outfit she was wearing... and she spoke with Therese's voice at first. She tried to focus on me, but her eyes seemed to keep rolling back into her head, or else shift off and focus on something else. She finally stared at me. "You!" Then she pointed the gun at me. My gut clenched and turned to ice. "I'm really sorry it had to end this way, I truly am. You seemed promising, but you've been _tainted_ by the _stink_ of my sister's schemes. And now, I'm going to make sure she _never_ double-crosses me again."

I held up my hands defensively, trying to figure out what to do. Then she spoke with Jeanette's voice: her eyes wide and her lips in a desperate pout that made me think of a damsel in distress. I just about fell apart. "Don't listen to her! She'll kill us both! Save me and I'll help you find Bertram, I swear!" I felt an overwhelming pity for Jeanette being placed into me, a desperate hope of escape from this insane situation for both of us.

Suddenly her face twisted into a mask of fury. I felt a submissive terror come over me. I felt like my head was being split in two. Therese screamed at someone only she could see. "Shut up, Jeanette! I warned you to stay away from Tung – he's turned you against me! I always looked out for you! But you couldn't stand my success – you had to meddle, didn't you? I didn't want it to end like this, but you forced me!"

Her face contorted into an expression of hurt innocence. Thankfully, I now seemed to be outside of the radius of whatever emotional manipulation powers had been directed my way before. She spoke with Jeanette's voice. "You never give me credit for anything, Therese! I was the one calling the shots! Bertram was dancing on my leash!" Her face turned up into a smirk. "How does it feel to know that I beat you?"

_Okay. Okay. Gotta get a handle on the situation._ "What's going on?"

Therese turned her attention to me, a snarl on her face, making me feel stupid and oblivious for not seeing right away. Truth is, I just didn't want to accept what was going on. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to rid the world of this deviant, backstabbing whore! Do you realize that, despite her condition, she still...fornicates..." Despite the fact that I didn't find the thought of fornication particularly upsetting, for some reason I was still filled with an outraged horror. "...with kine, no less! So despicable... so unclean."

An disdainful smirk now filled her face, and Jeanette replied. "You're one to talk, dear sister – or should I say Daddy's little girl?" She turned her attention to me, a wicked grin on her face. "Do you want to know just how depraved the Baron of Santa Monica can be?" I was filled with an intense, voyeuristic curiosity. _How exactly did Therese... Jeanette... these two get so crazy?_

Her face was now filled with wrath. "Shut up, Jeanette!" Therese screamed.

Her eyes were now filled with a perverse glee. Jeanette continued spilling her secrets. "You'd love the world to think you're a saint. When you thought I was asleep, I used to hear father come in at night... I heard him whisper how much he loved you in your ear before he-"

She was cut off by... herself, as an expression of horror forced its way onto her face and Therese interrupted. "Don't finish that sentence or you're dead!"

I could still feel the lingering effects of the voyeuristic curiosity. Combined with my natural affinity toward knowledge, I couldn't resist the pull. "What did he do?"

A nasty smile worked its way onto her face. "...before he had his way with you! He didn't have to force you – you went limp and became his plaything. Do you think I didn't hear it, night after night? Always the obedient daughter, until-"

I felt almost physically knocked back by the raw hate that radiated off of Therese. "Shut up, Jeanette! Just shut up!" Her face was twisted into an inhuman mask of bilious fury, and the thought of that being directed anywhere near me filled me with terror.

_Dear God, I shouldn't have pushed! This is way more fucked up than I ever imagined! I need to calm things down. I need to calm Therese down. _"Stop it, Jeanette!" I all but screamed in desperation.

Her eyes turned towards me in a piercing glare. I now noticed for the first time that the irises were two different colors. _How appropriate_, I thought in some small corner of my mind not currently occupied with screaming. Then her face broke into a victorious smile. "That's right, Jeanette. No one wants to hear your lies. I was the good girl. You were the wicked one. And despite that, I've always covered up your mistakes. I've taken care of you. And this is how you repay me?" I heaved a shuddering sigh of relief, but I only had a moment to feel sane before I was plunged back into the madness.

"Taken care of me? You've done nothing but keep me down, blame me for every mistake!" Jeanette's voice was bordering on tears now, and I felt emotional chaos begin frothing within me. "Did you expect me to let you rule my life until the end of time? No, sister, you've had it coming since our last sunrise." I felt a righteous indignation come over me, about the way Therese had kept Jeanette imprisoned under her icy grip. _I mean, what right does Therese have to run Jeanette's life... her own life... oh_ _Christ,_ _I think my head is going to explode..._

"Is that right, dear? If not for me you would never have survived this long. They tried to separate us, but I refused! I chose this life, and brought you into it so that we could stay together. Obviously, you've forgotten."

Her face seemed to shift back and forth between expressions as she swayed unsteadily from side to side, eyes rolling and mouth opening and closing. She seemed to be in some kind of lull between personalities. _What the hell actually happened to her? Was Jeanette ever a real person? Was Therese? Is this all just a product of her childhood abuse? What's real and what's fantasy?_ I felt like I was trapped between two demigods, each of which was pressing on me with the force of a semi truck. On the one hand, there was the promise of whispered delights, of easy escape from all this, if only I'd just help out the vulnerable but powerful Jeanette. On the other, an imperious Therese demanded that I give in to her. Even though each mind could clearly have dominated mine on its own, I was trapped equally between them – right at the fulcrum. I had free will, if only for a brief moment.

_Maybe I should just run. But then whoever comes out on top will hunt me down and kill me._ I knew what I had to do. I had to pick a side. Therese was terrifying... but Jeanette reminded me of one of the most terrifying experiences in my life. In the end Jeanette produced a greater fear.

"You saved her, Therese? Then it seems like Jeanette owes you."

Jeanette tried to regain control of the conversation. "She's a control freak! People, things, emotions – if she can't control something, she gets rid of it!" I could see the desperation in Jeanette's eyes, hear it in her voice.

"And she's a wild animal!" I felt disgust well up in me – or at least it tried to. I didn't actually care – I suppose Therese wasn't trying as hard, now that she thought I'd given in – but I pretended to. "She'll rub up against anything that will take her in for the night. Then, when she's stuffed and bored, she'll bite the hand that fed her."

"She tried to have you killed!" Jeanette cried in defiance, planting an insidious suspicion in me, making me wonder whether I was making the right choice.

"He knows better than to believe your lies, Jeanette!" Despite her words, she looked at me questioningly, and I found myself looking within, trying to figure out if I was making a serious mistake.

Jeanette must have sensed my hesitation. "You can't trust her. She'll use you and throw you away like a discarded tissue. You're a liability. You've seen too much. But I don't care. It can be our little secret. It's fun when things get dangerously close to falling apart."

I could see Therese open her mouth – and then close it, having no retort. She seemed to go back into the lull between personalities. _Is Jeanette telling the truth? Can I trust either of them? Of course I can't. I can't trust anyone. I should have learned that by now, I suppose. But I still have to choose. What is real? Who's lying about what? What is imaginary?_ At that moment, I recalled a quote of Serena's – it had been meant to inspire me to work harder to realize my goals, but it seemed quite appropriate here. "_The difference between the imaginary and the real is nothing more than the possession of a sharp enough mind, the proper knowledge, and sufficient will."_

_In the end,_ I realized, _I can choose what's real, at least to me. Therese and Jeanette are the perfect example of this – I_ _think Jeanette is a creation of Therese. Jeanette just seems too... over-the-top to feel real. But the point is, Therese made her into something real – something she can't stand any more, something that now has a life of its own. Though it could be the_ _other way around, for all I know. I can create my reality – within the confines of the reality these two have created. I can't disprove either claim that the other one is trying to kill me. So who would I prefer was trying to kill me? Who do I want to_ _be my ally and who do I want to be my enemy? _

In the end, I think it came down to this: I'm sort of okay with being a submissive bitch. It just makes life easier, knowing who's in charge and just doing what you're told. Serena had been the perfect mixture of controlling and freeing, but she was nothing more than an ash pile and a voice in my head and those wondrous nights were long gone. I suppose I just gave in to Therese because I was more comfortable with the fact that at least with her, I knew what I was getting into. I knew that if I bent over far enough, I could make her happy – and there was a small chance that if I could convince her that I was a good little pet, and I wouldn't cause any trouble, she might let me go free. If this whole experience taught me anything about myself, it's that I'm willing to submit to someone who wants to be in charge if they'll offer me predictability.

"I'm sorry, Jeanette... but I just don't trust you. At least with Therese I know what I'm getting. I'm willing to obey her just to be able to feel sane again."

Therese's eyes lit up. She thrust her chin up and burst into a triumphant smile. "To trust Jeanette is to trust a famished jackal not to eat you while you sleep."

"Therese will never let you live. You disappointed her. You've seen too much. I used you, yes, but I _didn't_ try to have you killed. Therese has no problem killing – do you? Remember father?" I knew I shouldn't listen, that I should just retreat into my choice and stay steadfast – but my thirst for knowledge was still a central part of who I was, and I knew that in her vulnerable state, Jeanette might just be willing to throw out real secrets. _I'll just stay quiet and listen._

"Father loved me! I was a good girl! You always hated that he loved me." It was strange, hearing Therese regress into a childlike voice. I was used to it with Jeanette, but Therese always seemed so mature. It was doubly strange when I thought about what her relationship with her father was like. "You disobeyed him. You brought men home when he wasn't there – you were an awful daughter!" Despite my fear of death, my desperate desire to escape, I couldn't help but be fascinated and analyze.

_Jeanette must have been her desire to act out manifesting itself. Therese wanted to be a good girl so bad she refused to acknowledge the warped desires that her own father had caused her to develop – since that would force her to acknowledge that her father was bad and she was being abused. _I knew I should have kept my mouth shut – or only used it to support Therese – but I had to know. _If there's one thing that can make me abandon predictability, it's the chance to learn something. _"What happened to your father?"

My heart felt like it had turned to lead when I heard Jeanette's voice speak, rather than Therese's. "Father came home drunk one day and mistook me for Therese, because I'd fallen asleep in her bed."

Therese backed up a step – an aghast desperation on her face. "Don't listen to her – she's lying! She's always lying!" I said nothing, but I knew that no one could _always_ lie – and Therese had just given away the fact that Jeanette was telling the truth.

The expression on Jeanette's face was unsettling in its depraved enjoyment of the opportunity to recount the horrible events. "Therese walked in while he was lying with me – best time he'd ever had with her, Daddy said. And so, she went to the hunting cabinet, lifted up the shotgun, loaded it with deershot, and blew his mind all over the silly clown wallpaper."

Therese was almost in tears now – I almost thought Jeanette had started crying, so strange was it to see Therese falling apart like this. Blood was welling up on the corners of her eyes. "That's a lie! Father killed himself because of Jeanette! She made him miserable!"

Jeanette smirked in twisted triumph. "As I recall, he died with a smile on his face."

I was shaken to my core. _And I thought my family was fucked up. The poor girl... if she wasn't (halfway) trying to kill me, I'd want to reach out and give her a hug. I doubt that would help things, though. I believe Jeanette... but I want Therese to win. God, they're both just as crazy as the other, aren't they? But Therese is a kind of crazy I can deal with._

"I don't believe you, Jeanette."

I could see the relief in Therese's face, an emotion which washed over me like a tidal wave. "As you shouldn't!" Therese now turned away, toward her vision of her sister. "I'm afraid, sister, that I must write your ending in this family's saga. I want you to know that I do so with great agony and disappointment. I'd hoped you'd change for the better under my guidance, but..." It was strange, but she seemed genuinely sad. Then she pointed the gun at... herself. _What's going to happen? I mean, it's not like Therese can really kill Jeanette... can she? Is she going to commit suicide?_

The sadness was now intensified into misery – and a single tear of blood dripped from her left eye, the green one. It seemed a natural flow of emotion – so I was surprised to hear Jeanette speak. "So, is this how it has to end? I'll admit, sweet sister, I always knew this night might come." Then a bitter scowl, almost Therese-like, came across her face. "Any message you want me to deliver to father? An apology? A love letter?"

Therese choked up, and a tear came from her right eye, the blue one. She swayed, her eyes spinning into the back of her head again, muttering incomprehensibly to herself. Her left arm reached up slowly, trying to snatch the gun out of the right hand. I knew I needed to act. "Therese, finish her off!"

Suddenly I felt myself trapped in an all-seeing, piercing gaze that could see to my very soul – and beyond. The woman in front of me spoke with two voices at once... and maybe more than two voices. "Do you really prefer Therese?" I could only nod. "Why?"

I had no time to think. I simply spoke. "Because I'd rather submit than be scared and unsure all the time... and because Therese seems more real to me."

An intense joy expressed itself on her face. Therese screamed to the heavens. "Do you hear that, Jeanette? I'm the real one!" With that final exclamation, she jammed the barrel of the gun into her left eye so hard I heard the eyeball squelch under it. Then she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gun resonated around the room and around my skull like sound of a judge's hammer falling on the gavel. The back of her head exploded on the left side, sending shards of skull, tufts of hair, and chunks of brain flying through the air and scattering them on the expensive carpet. I felt myself gasp involuntarily, afraid that she was about to turn to ash – and I would of course be blamed. Her head fell back, her arms went limp, and she just stood there, mouth open, tongue hanging out, her pigtail hanging on to her head by only a few threads of hair, seeming almost to be suspended in midair, before falling off with a ripping sound.

I just stood there, completely shaken and disoriented, having absolutely no idea what to do. I took a couple of tentative steps forward, bringing me right next to Therese… Jeanette… whoever the hell ran Santa Monica… whoever the hell was left in that body and brain. "Hello?" I was about to try tentatively shaking her when a sudden sound caused me to jump back. Half her brain fell out through the hole in the back of her skull, landing in a heap right behind her.

I stared, agape. The two of us just stood there for a few seconds, me staring, Therese leaning back. The she pulled her head forward and looked at me. It was the most unnerving thing I have ever experienced. Her right eye was wide open. Her left eye was… gone. And there was nothing behind the open socket – I could look through it to the room on the other side. She lifted up her hand, absently tapping the left side of her head, as though to fix her hair. She turned slightly, and I saw that half her face was all there was of that side of the head – like half a porcelain mask attached to half a head.

"Therese?" I was almost certain it was her who had triumphed – after all, it was Jeanette's side of the head that had been reduced to a mask. I had to be sure, though. Her response was not what I was hoping for.

She grabbed me by the neck and slammed me into the wall, pressing the cold steel of the gun barrel against my head. _Shit! Did Jeanette come out on top? _But it was Therese who spoke to me. "Thank you, Lucius. You helped me out at a very… vulnerable time. I want you to know that I'm truly grateful."

Her actions and words were completely at odds with one another. "Um, well, you're welcome. Do you mind… uh… putting the gun away, since I sided with you and all?"

She stared up at the gun with detached amusement. "Oh, I'd certainly like to. Truth be told, you seem quite reasonable and decent. But you've learned my secret. You've learned _the_ secret. It's nothing personal, understand. Everyone who ever discovered this secret has been killed. No exceptions. Even my sire… though it certainly wasn't by my hand," she added quickly. "I had no problem with him knowing, of course. But he and father were the only ones who could ever know, and they've been dead for quite some time. So I'm afraid you have to face final death, Lucius."

I was crying like a baby now. I think I may have pissed myself – I can't really recall. _It's not fucking FAIR! After everything I've been through, everything I did for her…_ I wanted to struggle, to move, but whenever I moved the slightest amount I felt like every inch of my flesh was on fire. I didn't know what she was doing to me, but I couldn't fight her like this. "Please!" I was barely able to choke out words between sobs. "I'll do whatever you say. I'll obey only you! I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

"I know you won't. You'll be dead." Therese looked at me with genuine regret and pity in her eye. She sighed. "In other circumstances, I imagine you would have made a good employee, or even an ally. But personal preference doesn't come into it. It's like the Masquerade. I like to think of it as my own personal Masquerade, in a way. It simply has to be upheld, no matter what."

"B-b-but I s-s-sided with you! I always tried to do what you wanted!"

A sad smile came on her face. "And I appreciate it! If it's any consolation, Jeanette would be doing the exact same thing if she had triumphed, so don't think you made the wrong choice. The need to keep our secret at all costs was the one and only thing we could agree on. Neither of us was particularly happy about having to share our body, to say the least. But now it's mine… all mine." She had a faraway look in her eyes, and I felt the burning go away. I tried desperately to struggle. She refocused on me and the fire returned. "I mean, can you imagine what people would say if they knew that Jeanette had been using _my_ body to do all those horrible, twisted things? Ugh… just the thought of what she… but I don't have to endure those indignities any longer! But if even a whisper got out, it would be the end of my social standing, my influence, my business contacts – it would be the end of my whole domain! So…" She stared at me with a serious look that told me she was ready to finish things. "…I'm afraid your second life, promising and short as it has been, must end here. Any last words?"

I was blubbering and delirious – I was a helpless infant in the jaws of a wolf. I knew that I could survive one gunshot – I'd taken a shotgun shell to the head tonight – but I also knew that I'd be knocked out after the first bullet – and unlike the human thug, Therese wouldn't give me time to stitch myself together before blasting several more chunks of my skull off. She wouldn't stop until I was ashes. At that moment, I honestly wished that LaCroix had just killed me in the theater. It just seemed cruel that I'd get to be Kindred just long enough to start to get used to things, just to have it all come to a pathetic end despite my best efforts.

That was when Serena's voice spoke to me. "_Do exactly as I say. You must show her the ring Jeanette dropped earlier. It's the only way out of this. I'll help however I can, but her mind is almost impossible to get inside."_

My panic subsided, and I scrambled back into something resembling the bubble. Therese looked at me in confusion, as a semblance of calm worked its way back onto my face. I thought of what I should say. The last words Serena ever spoke to me were the first thing that came to mind. "Let me show you something."

I could feel the burning leave my right arm as Therese looked at me in curiosity. I plunged my hand into my pocket. I fumbled around. _It's got to be in here somewhere… tell me it didn't fall out… Thank God!_ I pulled the ring out and held it up for her.

She inspected it closely, looking confused. Then her eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open. She let go of my neck and snatched it up. She stumbled back, tears welling from her one eye. I started quickly moving towards the door.

I'd made it most of the way there when I felt the force of her gaze pin me like a physical weight. I looked back at her. She was holding the ring gingerly and gazing into me with such intensity that I felt like my soul was bare before her. "Do you have any idea what this is?" I shook my head. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it on the floor, right outside your door, right before I met you. I figured Jeanette dropped it, but I was going to give it to you since it has your name on it. I guess I forgot about it, with everything that was going on. I really did mean to give it to you," I pleaded.

She breathing very hard now, her eye wide and wild as she stared at the ring. "I'd thought this was lost to me forever. I can't… how could she? She knew what this meant to me! And she kept it all this time…" She looked back at me, an unreadable expression on her face. "If I'd killed you… the heat of the ashing would have melted the gold… I'd never have known…" She stared off into infinity.

Free to move again, I bolted for the door. My hand was on the handle when I felt the burning overcome me. _C'mon… almost there… gotta push past this fucking pain, but… Argh!_

"Turn around." I did as she commanded, defeated and broken. I saw that the gun was no longer in her hand, so I knew I might have a chance at survival. _Just got to do what she tells me… and pray._ "Don't even think of lying to me." I knew better than that – I knew she had Auspex, along with other powers beyond my comprehension. "Did you conspire with Jeanette against me? I understand that she may have manipulated you. Tell me the whole truth."

"I just acted nice to her to get up here – there was no other option! She warped my emotions, played on my need for money to get me to destroy the exhibit – I really did think I was acting against a rival of yours!" I was spilling everything I could think of, keeping nothing back – my submission and humiliation were genuine. I really and truly was ready to prostrate myself before her, promise her anything – whatever it took to survive this. "And I was going to share all of Jeanette's secrets with you, too. Like the fact that she gives drugs to mortals before she fornicates with them and feeds on them. That's not only depraved, it's illegal and dangerous." She continued staring at me blankly. "I never liked Jeanette. She reminded me of this horrible girlfriend I once had, who nearly drove me insane and caused me to almost flunk out of college. Her name was Jenny. She played with me like a toy right after my parents died, when I was vulnerable. I hate her, and I hate Jeanette for reminding me of her."

Therese bit her thumb. I saw blood begin to well up on it. "Extend your tongue." I obeyed. She held her thumb over my mouth and pressed it with her forefinger, forcing a few drops to spill onto my tongue, lighting up my mind. It was the most exquisite thing I'd ever tasted. I fell in love with Therese the moment it hit my tongue. It changed me, fundamentally.

"Don't swallow it!" I obeyed unthinkingly, filled with a desperate desire to please her. She placed her thumb upon my forehead. She drew a cross upon my head in her blood. I was pulled back to my childhood, to Ash Wednesday and ancient Catholic rituals, and a time when they felt as real as anything physical. I knew, at the moment the ritual was being done on me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the old religious rituals had been nothing more than a pathetic imitation of something very, _very _real – something that can bind more firmly than chains. Something that was done to me on that night.

Therese licked her thumb and held her hand over me, like a blessing priest. Or a cursing satanist. "Repeat after me, with my blood upon your tongue: I will keep the deep secret of the nature of Therese and Jeanette."

"I will keep the deep secret of the nature of Therese and Jeanette."

"I bind this promise within my soul, and I bind my soul within the soul of Therese."

I hesitated for a moment, realizing how serious this was. Then I submitted. "I bind this promise within my soul, and bind my soul within the soul of Therese."

She lifted her face, staring down at me imperiously. "You may swallow the sacrament of my blood."

I swallowed. It was the single greatest sensation I had experienced in my existence. The blood of mortals gave me pieces of life. This gave me pieces of an existence that had swallowed hundreds of thousands of lives. This gave me a glimpse within a being beyond my comprehension, through which I could stare at the infinite reaches of the universe. I felt the bloody cross on my head burn up, and I gasped at the delightful pain. I felt myself bound by ties and delighted in the restraint. I felt fingers prodding around my mind and quivered in pleasure at the sensation.

I looked at Therese adoringly. She was staring off, as though she'd already forgotten me. She was speaking to herself... or maybe Jeanette... "Goodbye, sister." She turned back to me. She looked guilty and mournful. "I had to do it – you do understand? It was her or me. Now that she's been dealt with, I no longer have to worry about Tung. He's a minor threat without her. I'll call off the feud. I swear it." She reached out and grabbed both sides of my head in her hands, moving her eyes in right up to mine. "What you witnessed here – not a word to anyone." I nodded enthusiastically, obediently.

My adoration of her didn't last. I was overcome with a soul-crushing awe of her, destroying all comprehensible reason. I only knew that she could be a very wrathful god. She stood up again. Then she suddenly disappeared from in front of my eyes. I heard her voice echo from everywhere in the room. "I can become unseen. I can be anywhere. I could _always _be watching."

She reappeared directly in front of me. I jumped back in terror. "If you speak a word of this to anyone..." Her face twisted into a grimace of hate that stuck me down as thoroughly as if Satan himself had risen up and was towering over me. "...I'll hunt you down and kill you myself. Or perhaps I'll create a hell for you, instead of sending you there." She nodded and dismissed me.

I ran, desperate to be gone from this madhouse.


	19. Chapter 18: Time to Pretend

**Hey everyone. Managed to produce this chapter in record time! Hope you enjoy the end of our second night with Lucius. Don't expect this pace to continue - I don't really have the next night too fleshed out yet, and I'm working on the start of another story and some stuff irl, so the next chpater may be a bit. Or not. I'll see how I feel.**

**Thank you Stravvberry and Rednightmare for reviewing so quickly, and of course a special thanks to Rednightmare for beta reading. You two are my most loyal readers and you both rock in every way! Oh ,and definitely check out Stravvberry's new chapter in Tulle and Sheep's Wool. It's very good. And if you haven't read Byzantine Black - seriously, it's the best story in the Vampire section. Go read a few chapters, then come back and read this one.**

**Enjoy everyone!  
**

...

I all but stormed into Mercurio's apartment. I'd Tranced the ghoul at the desk and just come in.

Mercurio jumped in the air when he saw me, despite having only one good leg, and grabbed a powerful looking magnum out from under the pillow behind him.

I threw my hands in the air, shouting, "Mercurio, it's me, Lucius!"

He looked at me closely, squinting with his one eye. He fell back down, dropping the gun, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Jesus, kid. You look like shit. Come in. Sit down."

I collapsed into one of Mercurio's luxurious, comfortable chairs. I'm sure I got grime all over it, what with my hobo hoodie and all, but with all the blood that was spilled on everything, his apartment had become the essence of desecrated luxury. My head fell into my hands.

"One hell of a night, huh?" he asked me with a slur in his voice as he raised his glass to his lips, emptying it.

I looked over at him, then started laughing. "You have no fucking idea."

"Try me. I've had some pretty messed up nights, myself."

I snorted in derision. "I think I've got you beat."

"I really doubt that. I remember, back in '78, running through abandoned Manhattan subway tunnels for my life, one arm missing, holding my guts in my other hand, with one eyeball hanging out by its nerve, dangling around – and I could still see out of it. I think that was the point where I realized my life had gone completely batshit."

I whistled, impressed. "Damn, Merc. Still, I had my brains blown out onto the floor behind me by a shotgun blast to the head. I'm pretty sure you've never been through that."

He chuckled. "Can't say I have, kid. I guess that explains why you look like a lobotomy patient."

"Is it really that bad?" I asked.

Mercurio looked at me incredulously. "Kid, have you taken a look in the mirror lately?" I shook my head. "I'll tell you what. Feel free to use my bathroom to clean yourself up a little – just go through the door to the kitchen, then it's on your right from there. Oh, and I got a change of pants in the cabinet in there." I looked down at myself and noticed a big, wet stain where I'd pissed myself. _Great. Real classy. _"Oh, and while you're up, would ya mind getting another bottle of Jack? I kinda... finished this one." He gestured to the nearby table, which was now full of half-empty painkiller bottles and a completely-empty liquor bottle. "Oh, and I got some bottles of blood in the kitchen, right next to the liquor. Cabinet's to the right of the fridge. Grab the one with 'drunk blood' written on it if you want to really relax."

I gave him a beaming smile. "Thank you, man. I could use some blood, and I could definitely use a drink. I'll be back." I got up and headed to the bathroom.

I didn't recognize my reflection at all. I could see a rough resemblance, after staring for a bit, but I had obviously been changed by the events of the night. Mercurio wasn't kidding when he said I looked like a lobotomy patient – my forehead was concave and looked like a 5-year-old had patched it back together with glue. Uneven bits of skull jumbled and jutted out under scarred skin. My whole face had been blasted in a bit by the injury – between that and the scars, it was barely mine any more. It was also coated in what looked like a combination of blood and grime. Dried blood streaked down from my eyes, the remains of my earlier tears. I'm pretty sure any sane person who saw my face would run from me without a second glance. _Good thing I only went out in public with the hoodie hiding my face. Hell, I'm surprised I even got in the club._

As I stared at the appearance of whatever the hell I'd become, I thought about all the things I'd done, about what I was becoming. I thought about Dolores, and the cop I'd killed, and Therese and Jeanette, and the blood she'd fed me and whatever the hell it had done to me, trying to think about how she'd changed me, and...

The next thing I knew, I was hunched over the toilet, vomiting up blood. I felt sick at what I had done, at who I was becoming – at what I was becoming. I felt like my insides were on fire, like I was trying to shove my intestines out of my mouth. I held the cold porcelain in my hands, resting my head against it as the vitae no longer wanted to eject itself out of me. I shuddered, red dribbling out of the corner of my mouth. I sighed. _I guess I just haven't had time to decompress yet. I just ran straight here because I needed to talk to someone, anyone. Okay... it's going to be okay... I'm still me, I just... I survived. That's all that matters, in the end._ I pushed myself up from the toilet bowl.

I moved over to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out, trying to clear out the taste. The blood had tasted much worse coming up than it had going down – not bitter and sour, the way normal vomit tasted – rather, while normal blood tasted of life, this stuff tasted of death and nothingness... though taste wasn't quite correct, I sensed more than I tasted. I stared into my dark pits of eyes. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong with me. I felt like I was sick – like there was something fundamentally broken inside me. I felt woozy and lightheaded. _Is it Therese's blood? _But I knew this was deeper, more fundamental than that. As I looked at my warped skull, my ripped skin, my pallid complexion, my grime and blood-coated reflection, it occurred to me what the problem was. _I'm dead. I guess that would make you feel sick._ I felt the contents of my stomach bubbling up again at the thought. _What is this? Why do I feel this way now?_ It was as though some echo of my life didn't want to be this... thing I'd become, was trying to reject what I was. I suppose seeing my inhuman visage had forced me into a more direct awareness of what I was, and the emotional dissonance had expressed itself in a form that was a familiar reminder of life. _Of course, Kindred can't get sick – I'm doing this to myself. And what good does it do? I can't escape this... I mean, unless I want to stand outside and wait for the sunrise. As appealing as escape seems... I want to keep existing, in whatever form I have to. All I'd do if I killed myself is make LaCroix happy and disappoint my sire._

I peeled the disgusting hoodie off, leaving it on the floor for now. I looked back up and saw that my shirt was no longer quite as ripped up as before. Thankful yet again for this gift of my sire, I took my wet pants off and rummaged around in a cabinet. I pulled out some sweatpants and put them on, leaving my black-stained pants and underwear in pile on top of the hoodie. I started washing my face and my hands, scrubbing as hard as I could. With the grime off, at least I no longer seemed like a complete monster. I dried my face and looked over myself. _Not completely terrible any more, but good God, I hope these deformities aren't permanent. _I gathered up my clothes and walked out of the bathroom.

Mercurio's kitchen was high-end, with expensive appliances, stainless-steel counters, marble floors, even gold plating on the walls. There were crumbs on everything, though, not to mention empty beer bottles scattered throughout. I reached into the counter next to the fridge. Several Jack Daniels bottles were right up front. I had to dig around in the back for wine bottles with weird labels on them. I pulled one out that had "Drunk blood" written on a label. I looked it over and saw a brand stamp on it. "Therese Vineyards" was printed as part of an elaborate seal. I snorted in amusement. _Clever. I should have figured this came from her._ I turned around and walked back into the main room, bottle of Jack in one hand, bottle of blood and wine glass in the other, kicking my wad of clothing along like a soccer ball.

I blurted out the question that was on the top of my mind as soon as I entered. "Am I going to be like this for the rest of my unlife?" I asked, gesturing to my face, worried sick at the prospect.

Mercurio laughed. "Nah, kid. Every Kindred goes right back to the way they looked the night they were embraced when they sleep during the day – for good or bad. You're stuck with every stupid piercing, tattoo, whatever your hair color was that night, natural or otherwise – all of it. So don't worry, you only gotta deal with looking like a circus-sideshow reject for the rest of the night – which ain't too much longer, actually."

I laughed in relief. "Yeah, I should probably get back soon. I've got time for a drink, though... right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you've got some time before sunrise. You might even have time for a few." I smiled appreciatively. I left my clothes on the floor, set the Jack down on the table, and poured Mercurio a glass. "Thanks. There's a corkscrew in the drawer next to that chair." I opened the bottle with it, then poured myself a nice glass of blood.

Mercurio raised his glass. "Here's to the two of us surviving."

I raised mine. "To making it another night." I took a deep drink. It was fascinating – the alcohol and the blood mixed so seamlessly, the pleasure of feeding swirling into the joy of intoxication. It wasn't like getting drunk as a human – there was no delay. The instant it reached the back of my throat, I felt intoxication hit me. I fell back into the chair, relaxing for the first time in... _hell, since I was embraced. _

I put the glass on the table next to me and pulled a cigarette out. "Is it cool if I smoke in here?"

"Yeah, of course. I grew up in the '50s, kid. I could go for one, myself." I got up and handed him one, lighting it up with my stolen lighter. _Thanks, random club kid. I know I've needed this more than you did._ I lit up my own and sat back down. Cigarette in one hand, wine glass full of alcoholic blood in the other, I finally felt comfortable. I leaned back and closed my eyes, basking in the situation, in not having to worry about anything threatening my life at that moment, in having no outstanding responsibilities. Sure, I'd have to finish off the Sabbat – but that could wait til tomorrow. The existential terror of the bathroom seemed far behind me, now. _I can still enjoy the pleasures of life. Hell, I've experienced greater pleasure as Kindred than I ever did as a human. Of course, I've also gone through more pain. Par for the course, I suppose._

Mercurio pushed a button on the remote. Some Jazz started playing. "Ah... booze and Miles Davis. Does it every time."

I honestly had no idea who he was talking about – I never listened to much jazz. His name seemed vaguely familiar. Still, it was nice.

"So how'd everything go with the Voerman sisters?"

I sighed. I took a drink. I took a drag. I sighed again. "Well, it's all worked out now... but good God was that situation fucked." I proceeded to explain the situation to him – from initial introductions of Jeanette and Therese, to the ghost, the gallery, the betrayal, the diner, all of it – right up to the point when I ended up confronting the "sisters." Then I halted, unsure what I should say. I'd just been venting up 'til now – but I knew I had to tread carefully here.

"So what happened when you got up there?" Mercurio asked.

"Well..." _What should I say? I guess that Therese killed Jeanette. Technically true, I suppose. It's not a lie, so much as withholding information. _The thought of telling that particular secret to anyone filled me with a nausea-inducing fear, though I wasn't sure if that was the result of whatever ritual Therese had performed, or simply because the possible consequences of breathing a word of what happened were gut-wrenching. I wanted to tell Mercurio the truth... _But that would just make his life worse. Therese will kill anyone who finds out, no matter the cost. Besides, does it really matter? Jeanette is gone. _"Therese and Jeanette were fighting. Turns out Jeanette was behind all the bullshit I had to go through – Therese had been honest with me. She just got angry because she thought I was working with Jeanette. Therese was furious at her sister. Jeanette just kept laughing and saying it was no big deal. Therese pointed out that her sister had just about got me killed for no reason. Jeanette just kept saying how fun it was, and insulting Therese and..." I paused, trying to figure out what to say here.

"Makes sense. Like I told you, Therese seems on the level, and Jeanette seems about as level as a boat made of plywood in a hurricane. So what did they do?"

I took another drink and another drag as I finished composing the "official" version of events. "Therese told Jeanette she'd had enough of her games. Then she... Therese pulled a gun on her sister and blew her brains out the back of her head. Jeanette's dead."

Mercurio's eye widened. "Shit, kid. That's... I mean, it makes sense, given all the trouble she was causing, but... well, you types aren't supposed to just kill each other... at least not without the Prince's permission. I don't know how exactly it works and all, but..."

_Aw, shit. I can't get her in trouble. Gotta come up with something, quick..._ I finished my drink and my cigarette. "Well, I mean, I didn't see her turn to ash. Like, her brains were out of her head – I could see through her eye sockets to the room on the other side. But her face was still there, and even though she fell down like a corpse, she was still in more or less one piece. Therese dragged her into another room... I didn't ask what happened. I assumed that Therese killed her, but I guess she may have staked her or something. But I'm pretty sure Jeanette isn't going to be around anymore, regardless."

"Huh. Makes sense. Therese doesn't seem like the type to just disregard the rules. Killing is one thing, but staking someone isn't really that big an issue."

"Especially since Therese is Jeanette's sire," I volunteered, hoping to keep her from getting in even the slightest trouble. I didn't want her to be burdened because of me, and not just because of the possible repercussions to me – I felt genuinely sorry for her, having to deal with her father and sister. It wouldn't be until much later that it would occur to me that her blood probably had something to do with my concern for her.

"Really? Well, then she's got free reign as long as Jeanette doesn't end up in the vacuum cleaner. Still though, sucks for you, getting caught up in all that."

"You don't have to tell me," I said as I poured myself another glass. "At least it's all taken care of. Well, aside from the actual Sabbat warehouse, that is."

"Hey, don't sweat it, kid. I'm sure after all you've been through, the big man's gonna cut you a break, have a team of professionals take care of things."

I scowled, bitterly. "Somehow I get the feeling he isn't."

He looked at me inquisitively. "Well, I don't know what's going on, and honestly I'd rather not get involved. Nothing against you, kid, just that... well, I'm blood bound to the Prince. He's not the first guy who's blood I've drunk – I'm basically a Camarilla agent, drinking from whoever I'm told to, but... let's just say that I know better than to get involved in politics. If I just do what I'm told and keep my head on straight, I could live to real ripe old age."

I sighed. "I wish I had it that simple." I downed half my glass in a single swig.

Mercurio was looking at me in pity. "Look, kid. I can't promise you anything, but I'll see what I can do for you before tomorrow night. See what I can find about the situation, see if I can't help you out somehow. I mean, I can't really get around right now, but... I'll make some calls."

I smiled up at him. "Thanks. Speaking of calls, I lost my cell phone. Any way you could get me one of those prepaid burner things that I hear so much about on the news?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's easy. I got a few in the back, actually. But I'll set you up with something with a lot of minutes already on it. Come back to me first thing tomorrow night. I'll let you know what's going on with the whole Sabbat situation. Look, I know things might seem bleak, but it doesn't make any sense for LaCroix to send you alone. Even if he doesn't like you, he's gotta want to see this thing get done. The only thing sending you by yourself will do is get you killed, most likely."

I thought about telling him _that's probably the whole point,_ but I figured it wouldn't help things. So I just finished my glass and said, "Well, I guess we'll see what he says. That reminds me, I'm supposed to write a report to him, so I should probably get back home before I finish off the bottle. Thanks again for the drinks and clothes. I really appreciate this – you're the first person to actually _help_ me out."

He gave me a smile. "It's nothing, kid. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm loaded, and you saved me big time. But yeah, you should probably get back. I'll be seeing you around, Lucius."

"Yeah, see ya." I gathered up my clothes and headed out the door.

I made it to my apartment without incident. It was remarkable, how quickly I was starting to think of this place as home. I dropped my clothing on the floor. The first order of business was to secure things for the daylight hours. I grabbed the loose board and covered up the only open window, hammering the nails in. My next door neighbors pounded on the walls once again. I just laughed and ignored them. _I suppose I may as well just keep these boards on here permanently. Save me the trouble, saves my neighbors lost sleep._ I dropped the hammer and sat down at my laptop, ready to finish up with the night's bullshit.

"Dear Prince LaCroix,

I am writing to inform you that the extenuating political circumstances have been dealt with. I'm sure you're not interested in hearing the details of what happened, so I'll cut to the heart of the matter. Therese Voerman exiled Bertram Tung because of machinations going on between him and her unstable sister, Jeanette. Therese asked me to perform a task for her in return for calling off the feud, which I accomplished. Jeanette then proceeded to manipulate me and nearly had me killed. Therese confronted her sister over her madness and eventually incapacitated her. Therese has generously agreed to lift the feud, and has been very reasonable and accommodating throughout this whole affair.

I will contact her tomorrow about Tung's whereabouts. If I could get further instructions regarding how I'm supposed to deal with the Sabbat problem, that would be greatly appreciated – I assume I'm not expected to deal with an entire Sabbat base on my own. I look forward to further instructions from you tomorrow night.

Sincerely,

Lucius, Childe of Serena"

I hit the send button and fell back into my chair, glad to have everything taken care of for the night. I felt disgusting. I felt inhuman. _I need a shower._

As the water steamed up, I realized my teeth were coated in grime. They looked black from all the congealed blood that had built up on them. I grabbed a nearby toothbrush. _Ugh. The bristles look brown. Who knows who used this last. Ick. Well, I guess it's better than nothing. Just run it under hot water for a bit. _Despite the dubious cleanliness of the brush, the feeling when it hit my teeth was amazing. I had no idea how filthy my mouth had been until I started brushing. It felt like all disgusting, nauseating things I'd been forced to do were being scraped off, like the memories and dehumanizing effects were being spit into the sink. When I spit, the toothpaste was a nasty black-red, with small blood clots and hairs floating around in there. _Best not to think about that too much. Most likely rat hair._ I shuddered a bit, then rinsed out my mouth. Then I brushed again, just for good measure. I looked up at the mirror, only to see that it had fogged over. I wiped part of it clear and smiled to myself. My teeth were now a nice, healthy-looking yellow. _Beats pitch black. Plus it feels minty-clean. _I took a deep breath of the steamy air, feeling wonderful sensation of it entering my lungs, relaxing, loving it. I turned on the cold water and stepped into the shower.

The feeling of the water as it hit my skin was positively blissful. As I scrubbed away the filth and shame of the day, I felt like my inhumanity was washing away – like I was somehow making myself whole and healthy again. I knew it was an illusion – but as I'd seen today, the line between the true and the illusory was much thinner than I'd originally thought. _Hell, it's as though the point has been smashed into my skull repeatedly – the Ocean House Hotel, the whole mess with Therese and Jeanette, making myself feel sick – I guess what I considered to be objective reality was really just an illusion everyone collectively believed in. It was comforting, I suppose. Certainly easier to wrap one's head around that the insanity of reality. Ah well. This is nice, and if I believe a shower helps to restore my humanity, who's to say that's not true? It certainly reminds me of my living days. I suppose hygiene in __general could connect me back to what I used to be._ It was at that moment that I decided to make my old hygiene rituals a nightly thing – something to tie me back to my life.

At long last, I shut off the water. All good things must come to an end. I grabbed a filthy towel nearby and dried myself off, making a note to get a new one from Tripp. As I put my new pants and old shirt on, it occurred to me that I had no way of washing my filthy clothes. I looked at the shower I'd just come out of, and an idea occurred to me. First, I'd need to empty all pockets. I decided to pull all my stuff out of my pants and take stock of my inventory.

A few minutes later, a tire iron, nasty knife and sheath, a stolen gun that had shot me, two clips, a wallet, and a bail bond covered in prophesies were laid out on the floor. I picked up the jeans, boxers, and hoodie, took them to the bathroom, threw them in the shower, and turned on the water. I let everything soak all the way through, pouring dishwashing soap on them – there was no liquid shower soap, and I wasn't about to properly scrub them with the one bar I had. After everything had been soaked to an acceptable level and soap suds weren't coming off the clothes any more, I shut off the water. I lay the clothes out on the floor to dry.

I sat back down at the desk. I had the bail bond in my hand. I looked over Rosa's words, trying to make heads or tails of them. The only thing that made sense was the warning that I could only trust two people – the man on the couch, the lone wolf. While I wasn't sure who the lone wolf could be, I knew I could trust Mercurio, and it was good to have _some_ confirmation. I threw it into my desk, next to the notepad. I pulled the yellow pad out, looking over my notes from the night before and tonight's start. I looked over everything – the scribblings about who and what I was, about the traditions, about magic... I decided to add to it. _Keeping a journal. Something I didn't even do in life, but I still feel like it also keeps me connected to my humanity._

I wrote down brief ramblings on everything that had happened, taking special care to note what I'd learned regarding aura colors – I wasn't quite sure how I'd known what colors or patterns meant what, but I did know that I wanted such information recorded. I definitely didn't write down what really happened with Therese and Jeanette – I couldn't even bring myself to record it in the privacy of my own haven, on the off chance that someone might see it. I almost wished I could forget the whole thing completely. Hell, the only way I'd ever eventually write the account down was with Therese's permission, in encoded latin, on the margins of the pages of my memoirs.

Once I finished my account of the night, I tossed the notepad into the desk. I could sense the sun coming up, and I felt the weight of weariness coming upon me once again. I lay down on my filthy bed, getting myself comfortable, letting my eyes close, my mind drift. As I drifted off into oblivion, I heard the comforting voice of my sire, taking me gently into the sleep of the dead.

"_Ah, my poor childe. It was never supposed to be like this. The first taste of a blood bond that was supposed to pass you lips was to be you being properly brought into the clan. I'm sure you'll be admitted in, though it may take some work on your part. Funny, though, that Therese should think her secret inviolate – I discovered it long ago, though there was little that occurred in LA that was not known to me. Ironically enough, I didn't think that particular detail important enough to be worth reporting, so I suppose the secret died with me. I could go and waste energy informing someone in our clan – but at this point, that would only bring suspicion upon you, and would help nothing. Ah well. Rest, childe. The weight of existence falls from your shoulders yet again. Worry not about the ephemeral madness that is the future – I'll look into your head and take that burden from you for awhile._"


	20. Chapter 19: Roll the Dice

**Hey everyone! Just managed to get this chapter finished around my b-day (which was yesterday) but late-night partying kept me from posting until today. Time to start Lucius' third night.**

**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed!**

**Rednightmare – Thanks again for all your editing and reviewing work. And don't worry, I'm posting a review for the latest Byzantine Black chapter as soon as I post this. I really want to expand on Mercurio – he's a character that got sold short in the game due to a looming deadline, no doubt. Don't worry, I'm going to be doing quite a bit more with him.**

**FlyingFrog – Two nights down, infinite to go – or at least I'm sure Lucius hopes so. Then again, maybe he'd be better off if his unlife ended tonight... but the guy isn't some emo Toreador who's about to commit suicide because he just can't handle it all. He's practical and he plans on surviving. As for Therese/Jeanette – who really knows what's real in that relationship? The lines get so blurry...**

**SpecialAgentOrange – Lucius isn't in a blood bond – yet. From what I understand, it takes three drinks of blood to fully enter into a blood bond. So he's only one third of the way there. Now, that doesn't mean that Therese's blood won't be affecting him in some way... especially with the ritual she performed, which may just be a product of her delusions, or maybe something more... so hard to tell with Malkavians, what's just their own fantasies, and what's some strange power only they understand. Rest assured, however, that Therese has some kind of leash around Lucius, and she will yank on it eventually. As for the sisters' use of Dementation, I don't think they were afraid of Lucius, so much as one another. They were evenly matched, and Lucius was the wildcard that could tip the scales one way or another.**

**Claqueur – Thanks for your well-written reviews! I know they're for earlier chapters, but I want to respond to them here. I was working to create that very contrast between Lucius' Thin-blood and Vandal interactions that you noticed in Chapter 13 – er, well FF says Chapter 14, but I don't consider the Prologue to the Chapter 1. Chapter 14 was supposed to be a fork in the road – and the second half of the chapter is the start of his journey on the terrifying but fascinating path he chose. I hope you have a chance to read, review, and write some more soon.**

**Citrus334 and PastaSentient – glad to see two new readers! Thanks for the reviews. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**.**

The sun set. Half an hour later I rolled out of bed and headed straight to the fridge for breakfast. As I sucked the precious vitae through the cold plastic, I smiled at the realization that my morning blood-bag was a lot like breakfast and morning coffee combined – it woke me up on top of dealing with my hunger.

I tossed the empty bag on the trash pile. I moved over to the bathroom and relieved myself. I checked myself out in the mirror. I sighed in relief, as a face that looked familiar and human stared out at me, even if it looked like a dead human. _Funny, how 24 hours ago the appearance of my face disturbed me, and now it's a great comfort. God, I can't even imagine what it would be like to look like a monste__r on top of being one._

I decided to engage in a little ritual that had started every day from age 18 to age 28. I pulled the plywood off one of the windows. I opened the window up. I pulled a cigarette up to my mouth and lit it up. I felt the reassuring sensations, the connection to my old life fill me as I compressed my chest and forced my dead heart to beat. I stood at the window, looking out over the city, trying to draw it all in, trying to get some feel for what was really going on out there, what I'd be facing this night. It occurred to me, at that moment, that across the city, across the state, across the time zone thousands of undead beings like me were waking up, were staring out at the night-shrouded world. An entire world was waking up, a dark world, a world hidden from the majority of humanity, a world hidden in shadows. And I was now a part of that world, for better or for worse.

I noticed something across the street. I saw a girl, dressed very similarly to Sherry, standing in a dark alleyway. I stared at her. _Why is she dressed the same?_ I assumed she was another whore. Then Mercurio's words regarding Therese came back to me. "You want blood, you gotta go through her. She runs the only club in town, she controls the blood bank, and she controls the hookers." I wondered if Therese was making her girls wear uniforms. _Or was it Jeanette who ran that business? I guess Therese would be in charge of it now._ That made me think of last night. I shuddered. I wondered if Therese would abandon the business, finding it distasteful. _Nah, she's too practical to give up that money. Then again, what do I really know about her?_ But I felt like I understood her, in some intuitive way. I'd seen a flash of her life. I'd experienced her... essence. I shuddered again.

She was staring up at me – the hooker on the street below. I realized how strange I must look. How she must feel, looking at an apartment that looked condemned during the day, and suddenly one of the windows opens up once the sun goes down, and some strange guy is smoking next to it, staring at you. I finished my cigarette and tossed the butt out the window.

I meandered over to the desk and sat down. I booted up my email, figuring I may as well see what prince "trying-to-kill-me-for-no-goddamn-reason" wanted from me tonight.

"Your report of events in Santa Monica has been confirmed by independent sources. I would like to congratulate you on your deft handling of a delicate political situation. You are, however, expected to continue with your assigned task. Solicit Tung's whereabouts from the Baron, and handle the situation as you encounter it.

It has come to my attention that you have been seen using Thaumaturgical abilities. Clearly, such arts were taught to you before your embrace. While this was a clear violation of the Masquerade, and only further justifies your sire's necessary execution, it also conveniently provides you with the very tools you need to successfully handle an otherwise dangerous situation. You will find a wooden stake and $200 in cash in your apartment mailbox. The necessary equipment and resources have been provided to you for successful completion of your assignment.

A place in the Camarilla is not given freely. It must be earned.

-SL"

_Fucking blowhard._ I sighed. I managed to stay awake for about 5 minutes before the shit descended down on me again. I didn't feel like sending a reply. I just had to focus on the task at hand – finding Tung_. Which means going to the Asylum and__ meeting with Therese. Again. After last night. I don't think I can even imagine doing something more awkward. _I needed to get out of here. I needed to talk to Mercurio, to figure out what I was going to do. I grabbed the shredded jeans. They looked disgusting. There was a giant hole around the crotch. Still, I needed the belt-loops for the knife sheath, which the sweatpants didn't have. In the end, I put the sweatpants on over the jeans. I then grabbed my now-dry hoodie, put it on over my now-repaired magic-amplifying shirt, slipped my gun in the hoodie pocket, put my lockpicking kit in the other, and headed over to the fridge and put a blood bag in each of the hoodie pockets. Then I hid my ceremonial dagger inside my sweatpants, secured my tire iron in the waistline, and stuffed my wallet, lighter, and keys into my pants pockets. I headed out the door.

…

As I stepped out of the door of the apartment building, I looked at the wooden stake in my hand. I supposed it could be useful, if I could get the drop on a Kindred. Better than nothing... but certainly not enough. Still... as Serena had always said, "_Make use of the resources at your disposal to the best of your ability. You can do no more than that._" I stuffed the stake into my pants pocket and headed out of the alley.

I found myself almost unconsciously heading across the street towards the woman I'd seen from my window, driven by my thirst. She saw me and smiled, putting her hand on her hip, pouting her lips, batting her eyelashes, slapping on "the look." I walked up to her with a smile on my face. "Hey there. What's your name?"

"Cindy. What's yours, cutie?"

"Luke."

"Hey, Luke. You, uh, looking for a date?"

I smiled. "Yeah. How much you asking for? Sixty?"

She smiled back at me. "Yeah, that's about normal." She held out her hand. I pulled out the money and handed it over. She stuffed it into her waist, bills sticking out of her skirt. "You got a place in mind where we can go?"

I turned around, looking at the alley behind me that led to my haven. I turned back around and looked at Cindy. "How about there?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No way. Sherry got killed by some bum over there last night. I'm not doing anything in that spot. Find somewhere else."

My throat clenched up at the reminder of what I'd done to Sherry. I quickly turned my upset facial expression into one of sympathy. "God, I'm sorry to hear that. That's so messed up. Uh, yeah, how about the alley behind the hospital?"

Cindy smiled, this time genuinely. "Thanks for the sympathy. Sherry was a friend of mine. But hey, sometimes that's how things go out here on the streets. Life goes on, right?" Her smile seemed to crack at the edges, a profound sadness and bitterness showing through her eyes. Then she put the seductive mask back on, and her eyes dulled themselves again. "Yeah, that alley will work fine." She grabbed my hand and smiled up at me again, a subtle sadness reflected in her face underneath her mask. "Lead the way."

I led her to the side of the hospital, wondering about her life, about the sadness in her soul I'd witnessed, plagued by the reminder of what I was, what I'd done. We reached a secluded spot in the back alley. I led Cindy up to a corner and pressed her up against it. I gently ran my hand down her face, moving mine up to hers, kissing her cheek, moving to her neck, before plunging my fangs into her.

I felt her life, her essence flow into me, fill me, sustain me, pleasure me. I saw her life as it was pulled into me. I saw her journey out to LA as a young teen, with dreams of becoming a star in her heart. Her dreams were crushed by a harsh world that didn't care about her or what she wanted to become. Desperate and devoid of any formal education, only knowing how to look pretty and put on an act, she had become a stripper and then eventually a whore, telling herself that this was just a temporary thing, that she would get a part, that she would move on from this. But as time wore on and her youth and looks started to slip away, so did her dreams. A bitter maturity had begun to set in, a dull realization that this was all she was going to be, just another whore on the streets of LA. I sympathized, remembering my own bitter dullness as I slipped into my thirties and started to realize that I was just going to be another bureaucrat at some faceless company, that I would probably just die pathetic and alone. But I had reached out and escaped my prison, becoming something... else. Something wondrous and terrible. I thought about offering her a way out. Giving her my blood, showing her another world. _And what would she get? Enslavement to my blood, a terrible addiction that only I could feed? Or I could embrace her... though I don't rightly know how. All__ I remember is Serena's fangs at the end. There were all those rituals... In any case, I saw firsthand the repercussions of doing that without permission. And would that truly make her happy?_ In the end, I pulled my dripping fangs out of her tender neck before she lost too much blood, not wanting to cause her any more trouble. I licked my lips and then the puncture marks, gently leaning her up against the corner. Satisfied, I turned around and left.

… …

As I walked into Mercurio's apartment, I hoped desperately to find some answers, some guidance. Mercurio looked up at me. "Hey, kid. Have a seat, grab the bottle, pour yourself a glass." I did as he suggested, figuring one quick drink couldn't hurt. "Well, I been calling around, seeing what I could find. Basically, it seems like LaCroix wants you to go ahead and do this on your own, said something about how you've got some crazy powers or something?"

I sighed. "Yeah, he told me as much. It's bullshit. I've got nothing more than most Kindred, from what I've seen. So I guess I'm basically screwed, right?"

Mercurio looked at me with sympathy. "Doesn't make any goddamned sense," he muttered. "Well, look – I can't set you up with any serious hardware right now – things are a little hot, and there's a lot of demand from the the big man for any firepower I can get. Plus, shit's messed up right now what with that epidemic that broke out downtown – CDC and the Feds are crawling all over the place, which means all my independent operators are keeping their heads down." He sighed. "Look, I'm real sorry Lucius. I'm trying to think of what I can do for you." He reached into his pocket. "I got you a prepaid. It's got a hundred bucks loaded onto it, so you should be set for a month or two. Number's taped on the back. I already put my number in there, and I got your number on my phone, so call me up if you're in a tight spot and I'll see what I can do." I got up and took the phone, smiling and thanking him. "No problem, kid. Be real careful about who you give that number out to. If you need other numbers, I've got other SIM cards, though you're gonna have to load money onto them yourself." I nodded. He was doing more than enough for me, it was unreasonable to expect more from him.

I sighed as I emptied my glass. "Thanks, again. So, I need to go meet with Therese, get Tung's location, talk to him, and take care of this Sabbat warehouse... somehow." I sighed again and poured myself another glass, emptying the bottle. "Any advice you can give me?"

"Yeah. The best weapon you can use right now is probably molotov cocktails. Easy to make. Just get some beer bottles, drink 'em dry – or, er, in your case just pour 'em out – then get a can of gas and some rags, and you've got some real powerful weapons. I mean, nothing fucks up vampires like fire. It's a total game changer. I would never even think of trying to take on any of you types without it. Of course, the Sabbat are kind of fond of that toy, so be real careful yourself. Other than that..." He sighed again, furrowing his brown in concentration. "...don't go charging in. You got no chance that way. Sneak around, try and keep them from knowing you're there. Like, uh, infiltrate the place, I guess. I mean, I don't know what their numbers are like or anything. I guess you gotta ask Tung that. Try and see if you can't get him to give you some tips – I hear he's real good at sneaking around. That's all I got, kid. Sorry."

I nodded and finished my second glass. "Hey, it's fine. You're doing all you can, I get that. And thanks for doing it. I never would have thought of that Molotov thing. Might just keep me from dying – er, again. And thanks for letting me know about Tung." I sighed. "Well, I guess its time to go back to The Asylum." I was not looking forward to this.

"Alright. Good luck, kid. Oh, and don't forget the astrolite."

I reached down and grabbed the backpack I had left in Mercurio's apartment two nights ago. I cleared out the chemistry equipment, figuring having that clanking around in there might make sneaking a bit difficult. Then I hoisted it onto my shoulders and headed out the door.

… … …

I stood outside The Asylum, the lunatic beat throbbing through the concrete into my skull as I inhaled a vaporous, cancerous reminder of my own undead state. I was just procrastinating, trying to kill time. That's when I saw him. I walked over to him. He was just walking down the street, calm and oblivious. He didn't even notice me until I had strode up to him, confronting him. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, hey Lucius!" Knox said.

I didn't return his greeting. I just glared at him, my face now inches away from his. "What the hell was in that letter that you gave me?"

He became very nervous. "I-I-I d-d-dunno, man!" he stuttered.

"Do you realize that your letter got me _this_ close..." I held two fingers pinched together right up to his face. "...to getting killed? This close! I had a stake stuck in my heart! I got... I'm not even going to get into it. What the hell was in there, Knox?"

He was terrified now. His eyes were wide, he was shaking, his lip was quivering. "I don't know, Lucius! I'm so sorry, man! I had no idea – if I'd known, I swear, I swear, I would have never..."

The way he looked reminded me of myself last night, crying for my life, feeling helpless and trapped. I sighed. "It's okay, Knox." This wasn't his fault. How could it be? "I get it. You're just the messenger." I realized I was just venting, just taking out my frustration on him. "It's just this whole situation is so fucked up for me right now. I shouldn't take it out on you." I backed up and backed off. "It's just that I still don't know where Tung is, and I have to go up and talk to Therese _again_, and I really don't want to see either Voerman sister ever again if I don't have to."

I could see relief fill him, inflate him back up into a real person again, instead of a desperate terrified creature. "Sorry again, man." I dismissed any implication of guilt on his part with a casual wave of my hand. I even offered him a cigarette. _Have a little taste of death, my friend. _"For real? Thanks, man! You're the best!" I rolled my eyes at his childish naivete. Still, I couldn't help but like the kid a bit. _At least I__ don't have to worry about him trying to kill me._ "So tell me man... is it true? Is Jeanette dead?"

I stopped and stared at nothing for a second, the events of last night overwhelming me yet again. I composed my answer quickly. "If she's not dead, she's staked. Point is, we're not going to see her again. Good riddance. Jeanette's the real reason I almost got turned to ash. Trust me, Knox, we're all better off without her around."

"Geeze man. Crazy stuff. Sorry to hear about all the crazy shit you're dealing with. Things are really bad for me too, right now. But hey! I think I know a way we could help each other out." I looked at him cynically. "Aw, c'mon man, I know things might seem messed up right now, but hear me out. Okay, so you know how I'm, like, a ghoul, right?" I nodded. "Okay, and you know how I said I couldn't tell you who my master is?" I nodded again, a bit more interested. "Okay, well..." Knox looked around conspiratorially, then leaned in real close and said to me with a faint whisper, "My master is Bertram Tung."

I just about did a real-life double-take. "What?"

"I said-"

"I heard what you said. I mean, like, what – as in, what the fuck? You could have brought me to Tung _this entire time?_ I didn't need to go through _any_ of that shit? Any of it? All of the bullshit with Therese and Jeanette, with the haunted house, the fucking blood monster tearing off my balls, getting my brains blown out of the back of my head... All of it was completely unnecessary?" I started speaking in a whisper, but as my anger rose, so did my volume. By the final sentence I was shouting, I was so upset.

Knox had cowered back against the far wall. He looked around nervously. "Hey man, people are starting to stare. Maybe we should walk and talk." I recognized that he was trying to distract me, to calm me down. But he was right. I nodded, and we both walked into a nearby alleyway. I was distracted again by a strange scene – police tape encircling a manhole and a chalk body outline right next to it. _Shit. I recognize this alley. Let's keep moving. _We walked past it until it was out of sight, until we were in a secluded little area, and then we stopped. I took a moment to collect my thoughts and figure out what I was going to say. Knox beat me to it.

"Okay look, man. I don't know where Tung is. I couldn't have told you about Tung even if he hadn't ordered me to stay quiet about him. Which, like, he did. And when you're a ghoul, you just kinda have to do what your Master says. But I do know how to get him to let us know where he's at."

Something didn't add up. "Wait. How do you not know where he is? He's your master. You need his blood."

"Dude, he just shows up out of the blue whenever he feels like it. He knows where _I_ live, for sure. Hell, he seems to just know where I am and what I've been up to all the time. Then again, he can turn invisible, so..." Knox shrugged. "Who knows? He could be right here, listening to us. That's just how he is."

I looked around furtively, then stopped myself and chuckled under my breath, knowing it wouldn't help. Then I thought of something. I activated Auspex, and slowly looked around me. Still nothing. _Which doesn't mean he isn't here. I'm young, weak, and I have no idea how the__se things work. Gotta be careful at all times._ I looked back at Knox. "You don't seem too bothered by it."

Knox shrugged again and gave me a grin. "I guess you just get used to it. I'll tell you, though, he really does like sneaking up on me and scaring me shitless. Like, I turn around in my living room and – BOOM – he's right there in front of me, tells me he's been hanging around for half an hour, seeing if I'd notice. Oh, oh! Get this, man. Okay, so worst case scenario of that – totally happened to me. Okay, so get this – I'm in the bathroom, right? I'm in there, and I'm taking a shit. And I look up, and there he is, just outta nowhere. He's straight to business, too, not like it was just a joke. He's telling me he needs a report on something right then and there, and I'm all like 'Dude, let me finish up here!' and he's all like 'Don't have the time, give the report right now, I don't care that you're taking a shit, I've seen way more disgusting things.' So... yeah, talk about awkward."

I just shook my head. _Man, what a crazy world we live in. Just when I think I've got my head wrapped around it... "_That's _really_ weird. Okay... so I get that you don't know where he is. How can we find him? Why is he even hiding? I took care of everything with Therese and Jeanette."

"Yeah, well..." Knox looked around again. "They aren't the only ones he's hiding from. See, I've been hiding from this... thing for the last few nights. This guy, this vampire – only he's not a vampire, he's like, an asian vampire, but he's not the same as a normal vampire... I dunno, I only know what Tung let me know, which isn't much. He's called a Cathayan or something. So anyway, Tung asks me to start following this guy around, see what he's up to. Only, he notices me really quick, and gets a little hostile. I don't get what Tung wants. It's like, I can't sneak up on him, he always notices me. Then it hit me. I was a distraction! Luring his attention away while Tung snuck in and gathered info. Man, Tung may be a creep, but he is damn smart. That's why I just do what he says and don't ask questions. Anyway, a few nights ago all this stuff went down with Therese and Jeanette, and Tung basically dropped off the map. I guess if a guy that can turn invisible doesn't want to be found, he's not gonna be found. So suddenly, instead of me watching this dude, he's watching me. I see this guy appear around me all the time, like off in the distance. Then he'll like, warp up next to me, then disappear. It's freaking me out. Like, I know this thing is totally toying with me. I want to put a bullet in its head – but who knows if that will do anything!"

I nodded. "Man, that's even creepier than Tung. So how does this all tie together?" I was sympathetic, but I had my own mess to deal with.

"Okay, sorry for going on so long. I'm just getting to that part. So three nights ago, Tung just shows up at my place out of the blue. All he says is 'You need to get whatever's vital, like your computer, and run out the fire escape before that guy gets here and kills you. Meet me at this motel.' Then he hands me a card and disappears again. Now, Tung's played pranks on me before, but I knew this was serious. I climbed down and was running across the parking lot when I looked back, and..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...there he was, the Asian vampire, standing in the window of my apartment. If I'd been any slower getting out of there..." He let out a breath. "So anyway, I'm staying at this motel. When I get there, Tung tells me that I need to leave the spot before the sun is down the next night, and only go back once its up again. He also tells me that my new job is to hang around The Asylum, where there's no way that this dude can make a move against me, and try to get Therese to call off the feud so we can deal with this vamp. He gives me this letter to give to Jeanette and disappears again. So the past two nights I've literally just been in The Asylum nonstop, scared out of my mind to leave, occasionally running to the diner across the street for food. I mean, that club really messes with your head after awhile."

He had a wide-eyed, hysterical look about him that, along with his aura, made it clear that he was telling the truth about this mess. I felt sorry for the kid. I thought for a second about the situation. The letter was for Jeanette. And Therese had said that in it, the letter had mentioned my involvement in the plot to destroy her exhibit... but Knox got the letter before he met me... before I was even embraced. _Wait a second... it may have just mentioned the person who delivered the letter. Could Tung have been planning on having Therese kill Knox? It does sound like he'd become a liability at this point. Shit. I guess I saved his life._ "Wait, you're saying you haven't been out of sight of this building at all the last two nights?"

"The only time I left was to go to the nearby alleys, hoping Tung would pop up. And tonight, he did."

"So, what did he say?"

"Well, basically he told me that you got things taken care of, that word on the street is that Jeanette was dead, and I could tell you about him. He told me to tell you that if you take care of this guy, this Cathayan for him, he'll meet up with you. I was just coming back to try and find you."

I thought about the situation for a second. On the one hand, I had no idea what this Cathayan was or could do. I was completely in the dark, and for all I knew he was way out of my league. On the other hand, at least I wouldn't have to deal with Therese again if I took up this offer. I was seriously concerned that if she saw me, she might just change her mind about letting me live. _Best to just not give her an opportunity to rethink her original decision._ "Okay, I'm in."

Knox's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. Just let me know what exactly I need to do, and I'll take care of it."

"Dude! This is so great! I mean, I've been so scared for so long, I just… Thank you, man!" He was like a kid on Christmas. I imagined I felt a bit like the parent wondering how they were going to afford the presents, but didn't want to show the worry because it would ruin the child's delight. _Let him think I know what I'm doing, that I'm just going to solve all his problems. Either I live up to his ex__pectations, or I don't. Still… maybe I should get those molotov cocktails now…_ I was pulled out of my introspection by Knox's nasal voice once again. "Okay, so here's what Tung told me. This guy's been watching me and The Asylum from this warehouse across the street, called Foxy Boxes. Here." He handed me a key card of some kind. "This will open the back door. Basically, Tung told me to walk around a lot out in front of The Asylum, you know, run distraction while you sneak up on him from behind. It's like, we're doing some teamwork, right?"

I nodded. "Okay, sounds good. But first, I need to know where the nearest gas station is, and I need to know if they sell beer."

"Huh? Um, they all sell beer around here. But why-"

I cut him off. "I don't have time to play twenty questions. Just let me know." He told me where it was located. Not far. I could walk there in a minute. "Okay, cool. Stay here. I'll be back soon." Knox nodded and obeyed as I walked away.

… … … …

I wandered back into the gas station with a full can of gas in my hand. I'd already prepaid at the counter for my gas. I walked to the back of the store. I opened the cooler and started testing beers. I was checking for a very specific bottle property. After a bit, I found a candidate that matched what I was looking for perfectly. Oddly enough, it was a beer that I'd been fond of in life, thought I realized two things at once as I remembered that: I would never taste this beer again, and I'd never noticed this particular bottle property while I was alive.

Yuengling beer bottles had screw off tops... and the tops could be screwed back on. Just what I needed. Of course, I'd left a trail of ruined six-packs in my wake, but oh well. I headed up to the counter and laid the six pack on it. "I'd also like this."

The guy behind the counter rang up the purchase. "Very well, sir. May I see your ID?"

I had run into this problem for the first time. I improvised. "Dude, I'm clearly over 30. I left my ID at home. Just sell me the beer."

He was obstinate. "I am sorry, sir, but I am not legally allowed to sell you alcohol without proper identification, regardless of you apparent age. That is simply the way it is."

I was pissed off at this inconvenience. "No, this is the way it is." I reached out and Tranced the cashier, before walking out of the gas station with a free six-pack.

… … … … …

I'd grabbed a quick bite from a bum on my way back. I'd been completely full when I saw Knox, and the Trance and the Auspex had barely drained anything, but I needed to be at the peak of my capabilities. I stopped in my apartment briefly, to prepare myself.

I poured all six bottles of beer down the toilet. I felt kind of bad doing it, as it was a direct reminder of what I couldn't do any more, but I didn't really have any choice. Another little piece of my humanity slipped away down that toilet. Still, I kept another piece. I'd always liked Yuengling in life. And now, even today, I use only their bottles when I need to make Molotov cocktails.

I slipped the first bottle over the gas spigot, then turned the two containers with both hands until the gas can was above the bottle and filled it with gasoline. I repeated the procedure for the whole six pack. Then I screwed the tops back on all of them and put them back in the cardboard six-pack. I put the cap back on the gas can and left it on the floor of my room. I looked around. I needed rags. I cut up one of the curtains, which was currently covering a plank of plywood. I stuffed the makeshift rags into my pockets. Then I headed out the door, to rejoin Knox.

… … … … … …

I found Knox back at the alley where I'd left him. He perked up when he saw me. He looked at my six pack in confusion. I came in closer. He spoke in a low volume. "So, um, what's up?"

I figured I may as well let him know what I was planing. "This six pack is full of gasoline. I've got a six pack of molotov cocktails."

His eyes widened. "Dude! That's, like..." He trailed off.

"Listen to me." He immediately was paying attention. "I can't carry this around with me – it makes too much noise." I took one bottle out of the six pack before handing it to him. "Here, you carry this." He nodded. "Um... what else? Oh. Here, take this, too." I took off my backpack and gave it to him.

He took it just as willingly. "So, um, what's in this?"

"Don't worry about it. But, um, keep it away from any open flames. That's why I can't have it, if I'm going to be holding a flaming molotov cocktail. I mean, Merc said it was like TNT's meaner older brother, so any TNT-based explosives would be sensitive to fire. Unless that was just a phrase, and not an accurate description of its chemical properties. I mean, it might be more similar to plastique explosives, in which case you'd have nothing to worry about. Um..." I was brought out of my chemical introspection by the realization of how uncomfortable I must be making Knox. "...just be real careful with it."

Knox was wide-eyed now, with equal parts fear and awe. "Um, yeah, of course, whatever you say, man."

I nodded at him. "Okay. You go out and walk around in front of The Asylum. I'll head out about five minutes later and sneak in the back. Let's hope this works."

Knox nodded and dutifully ran off. As I sat and waited, I looked at the beer bottle in one hand, then put my other hand in my pocket. I felt the rag,, the lighter, and the key card down in there. I started preparing myself for the task ahead of me.

… … … … … … …

The door unlocked with an electronic click as I swiped the card. I edged it open. Before stepping inside, I took the top off the bottle in my left hand, grabbed the rag in my pocket, stuffed it in the mouth, and turned the bottle upside-down to make sure the rag was nice and soaked. I flipped it right side up when gasoline started dripping from the rag. _Say, that gives me an idea... _I put the thought aside for later. I grabbed the zippo out of my pocket and flicked it open. I wasn't going to light the cocktail yet – the light would give me away. But I wanted to be ready. Then I grabbed the knife out of the sheath, gripping it and the lighter in my right hand. Now ready, I proceeded inside.

I slowly closed the door behind me. Though it closed gently, the click as it shut sounded as loud as a hammer falling to my nervous ears. The place I was in was completely pitch-black. A quick use of Auspex fixed that. Sure, the place still seemed dim, but I could make everything out clearly enough. More importantly, I'd now have some warning if my target had heard me enter and was heading my way.

I was in some kind of back office. There was a door in front of me that was open. I moved carefully forward, but to my Auspex-aided ears my footsteps sounded like thunderclaps. _If he has Auspex, my cover is already blown._ I exited the office.

I saw shipping containers stacked to the ceiling, walkways far above my head. This place was clearly some kind of warehouse. I saw no signs of aura. Then again, this was a big place, and I knew that Auspex did have limited range. I moved deeper into the warehouse, filled to the brim with fear, not even daring to breathe. I pulled myself into the bubble, not making the fear disappear, but at least distancing myself from it. I needed to be sharp. I couldn't let panic put me off-guard. I carefully stayed near the great piles of shipping containers, looking around, scanning for any sign of aura, listening for the sound of any footsteps that didn't originate from me.

Still nothing. I was starting to get nervous. _Did Tung give me bad info? In which case, how is he trying to screw me over? _I silenced my paranoia, keeping focused on the immediate danger.

I thought I heard something above me. I pressed up against a nearby shipping container and looked up, straining, trying to see any sign of motion or aura. I thought I saw a brief flash, but...

It was the sound above me that alerted me. I jumped forward and spun around right as the Cathayan dropped down right where I'd been leaning. I held up the knife defensively. He simply bowed, then reached behind him for some weapon.

I didn't wait for him to draw it. I spun the spark wheel and lit the flame on the zippo. I touched the sputtering light to the rag. It burst into an inferno almost immediately. It was the only light source in the building, its inconsistent orange glow casting the figure in front of me in an ominous light. Aural flames danced off of his body like an extension of the fire I held in my hand. Blood adrenaline forced my vitae through my veins, filling me with an intense felling of physical power. Auspex amplified every sense, made me aware of every small motion. I felt a strange calm fill me, almost lunatic in its intensity.

He raised a short, slightly curved blade, his eyes carefully weighing me, trying to figure out how to approach me. I wasn't about to just lob the molotov at him. It was the one thing that could let me win. I needed to wait until the right moment, get a feel for what he could do, what I was up against.

My opponent took a few cautious steps forward. I backed up. I blinked, and he was in my face, slashing upwards with his weapon. I had just enough warning that I was halfway through taking a step back when he attacked, so only my lower jaw got split open, instead of my whole face.

I acted on my earlier idea. I raised the molotov as though to throw it. He hunkered down, no doubt poised to jump out of the way. I now knew he was fast enough to dodge it. That's why I promptly thrust forward with my knife. His eyes widened in surprise, but he was still able to block my blow. I stepped back, but I swung the molotov in a wide arc downward as I did so. My idea proved viable. The centrifugal force of the swing caused drops of gasoline to fly out of the mouth. They caught fire as they passed the rag, causing drops of flame to fly out from the mouth of the bottle towards him, hitting his face and clothing.

He backed up in surprise. I moved forward, thrusting my dagger directly into his face. He responded by slicing at my arm, severing half the tendons. I quickly pulled my knife out while I could still hold it and jumped away from him as I focused on repairing the damage he'd done. I looked over at him. The fire was continuing to smolder, but he just stood there, stoic and calm. _Shit. This guy might be way more than I can handle. Still, since he already has flame on him, if I can just..._

My thoughts were cut off by a sudden rush forward. I thought I was ready for him. I was dead wrong. He moved up to me. I moved back and to the right, swinging as I did so. He quickly ducked my blow and spun, shoving his blade into my calf. Before I even had a chance to react, he'd spun around again and was behind me. My right arm was pinned by his, which was holding up the sword up to my neck. I immediately thought of Serena, of her beheading. I wasn't sure if he could directly cut my head off... but I wasn't interested in finding out. I tried to move out of his grasp. He put his other leg in front of mine and held my shoulder with his other arm. I was trapped.

He spoke for the first time. "A most adept agent. But not, it seems, of sufficient skill for the assigned task."

I felt the blade cut into me, felt my blood flow out in terrible, copious streams, felt him cut deeper and deeper into my flesh, and I knew he was going to behead me if I didn't do something. Frenzy almost came upon me. I banished it and took a moment to think. Salvation occurred to me.

My left arm was still free.

I swung the bottle over my head, cracking it on his. Gasoline spilled all over both of us – but mostly onto him.

The flames that were still smoldering on his clothes caused the gasoline to immediately catch fire.

I felt the fire light up on me, felt the terrible, terrible pain drive me insane. I lost myself to frenzy right as he screamed with an unearthly horror. His muscles weakened with pain as mine were strengthened with bestial fear. I leapt forward, out of his grasp.

I fell to the ground, remembering my childhood training – stop, drop, and roll. It put out the flames, but the agony of the burning continued. I pushed myself up and looked over at the inferno that was my enemy. He had dropped to his knees, his arms raised to the air as he screamed in agony. Then his eyes turned to me. _Shit. He's not dead yet._

He leapt my way. I had half a second to dodge the flaming mass heading my way, trying to take me out with it.

I got out of the way – barely. I felt the heat ripple off of him as he moved inches from me, some of which added to my already substantial burns.

I realized that I'd dropped my knife. Not that I could use it, given the fact that he was on fire. I pulled out my gun right as he pushed himself up from the ground where he'd landed, not more than a foot from me. I pointed it at him and pulled the trigger over and over again. He stopped pushing himself up, then fell back down on his face. I kept firing, driven insane by my fear. The gun was empty. I kept pulling the trigger anyway, until I saw his flesh melt, turning to a rotting, bubbling, flaming pile of goo, before burning to ash.

I stood there for a second, standing over the remains of my opponent. It was clear that he should have beat me. He was ridiculously fast and skilled with his blade. I reached up and rubbed my neck, which I now realized had been cut halfway through. I focused on stitching it back together as I sucked on a bloodbag.

_Mercurio was right. That molotov cocktail was a game-changer. I owe you one, __Merc. Well, looks like I live to fight another night. Oh, wait. The Sabbat. Shit._


	21. Chapter 20: Hey Pretty

**Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!**

**Flying Frog – You hit the nail right on the head. Lucius is a complete wildcard – a loose Tremere who know blood magic, a very rare and valuable skill. Those don't happen too often. You better believe the Anarchs are going to try and pull him over to their side to get that power – though I imagine clan Tremere would have its own ideas about that...**

**RedNightmare – As always, thank you so much for beta-reading this! The most important thing is the peace of mind I get from having my work checked. The connection with Therese will be very interesting to play out, though she's going to be away for a bit – I doubt either of them want to meet after what really is, if you think about it, a very, very awkward encounter. I mean, what do you say to someone after that? Don't think she won't be trying to have Lucius watched in some way, though. **

**Loving Companion Cube – I'm so glad to see you back! Read and review at your own pace. And I don't feel any resentment for a bitter nerd – I'm a bit of one myself, and I've been known to throw out a harsh review on occasion. The harsh reviews make me improve my work. Anyway, glad to see you like what I've done with Lucius.**

**Without further ado, here is the chapter! I just have one final thing to say:**

**DubNation is my new god. Bow down and forsake all others before the beat.**

**...**

"I have seen the squirming on the horizon! The worms are stripping the foulness from the skull of the earth!"

A crazy man was shouting on the corner. He had a beard that looked biblical, wore filthy rags, and spat copiously as he shouted to everyone and no one in particular. He was holding a makeshift cardboard sign that read "THE END IS HERE."

He made me very uncomfortable. He was right across the street from the place where Tung supposedly was. After barely surviving the fight against the Cathayan, I'd headed back to Knox. He informed me that Tung had just appeared out of nowhere, and had only vanished a moment ago. I carefully scanned with Auspex, and I swear I saw the briefest flash of an aura moving away, but I may have imagined it. Knox let me know that Tung had given him a key card and a piece of paper with a passcode and address on it – some junkyard with heavy security, Knox said.

I had to get a bite or two to eat before doing this, so I fed from some tipsy clubber. That gave me enough of a buzz that I worried about becoming too intoxicated – so I filled the rest of my belly with whore's blood. _I'm making Santa Monica's whores pretty rich. Well, actually it's Therese who gets all the profits._

"This rain is the pungent sewage of hell, seeping into the cracks of this putrid purgatory! Soon it will wash all into the damnation sea!" It had started raining again, though only lightly now. _Would have been a better apocalyptic prediction last night,_ I thought derisively. Even so, something about his words... I knew I should dismiss them as insane ramblings, but there was something about the last few nights that had me wondering. I thought about that one bum who'd lived in the alley next to my apartment, before he was presumably arrested for a murder I committed. He'd seemed to be aware of the existence of Kindred...

We stepped up next to a burning trashcan with two bums huddled around it. They moved to the other side of the receptacle to make room for us. We were in front of a heavy door with a card swipe and keypad next to it. "Hold on, man, just gotta punch in this code and swipe this card." I nodded.

While Knox was busy, I stared back at the madman. He bared his teeth at me like a wild animal. "I know what you are," he spat out through clenched teeth. "The damned laugh loudest before they lose their heads!" He turned his attention from me and raised his head to the heavens, screaming at the top of his lungs. "We are living in the last days of the last age of mankind! Repent in this, your final hour!"

The door clicked open. I all but shoved Knox inside and shut the door behind us. The silence that followed was beautiful. We were in a small room with only two doors – one was behind us, another in front. The door in front of us was locked. There was a button on the wall – nothing else was in the room except a camera. I pushed the button.

"Hey," croaked a voice that sounded like the product of chain-smoking. _Glad I gave that habit up while I was alive. Now that I'm dead, I'm free from the responsibility of worrying about my health and can enjoy that as much as I want. Provided I manage to live much longer..._ "I'll buzz you in." A loud buzzing filled the room. I pushed open the door and went through as Knox followed.

We were in some kind of dump. I had no idea where I was supposed to go – there were just piles of junk all over the place. I saw motion over by some massive oil drum – it was a hand gesturing me over. Knox and I quickly moved over to it, slipping through a human-sized tear in the corrugated steel of the drum. Once inside, I was surprised to see a well-lit corner of the thing that looked almost... cozy. There was a mattress, a computer, a lamp... _almost has more domestic charm than my haven. _A person, who I assumed to be Tung, was standing in the middle of the lit area. I moved closer to introduce myself. Once I got close, I got a good look at Tung, and I stopped in my tracks.

I could make a long story short and just say that Tung was ugly. That doesn't really do it justice. I was never one to really care about aesthetics or beauty. But Tung, he was just... his whole head was horribly misshapen. His face covered in boils and pustules. Everything looked leathery and slimy at the same time. His fingers were pointed claws that sent instinctual shivers down my spine. The fact that this monster was wearing human clothes and stared at me with disdainful human eyes as I gaped in horror only made it worse. I stared, agape, for a second or so, before my eyes were forced away. To truly understand Nosferatu, you have to understand this about them: they are supernaturally ugly. It's as though someone specifically designed each Nosferatu to be as disgusting and horrifying as possible. The urge to look away, to forget the face you just saw, is almost primal in its power. Which, of course, only works to their advantage. It's very hard to remember a Nosferatu face, provided you ever see their real face at all. Your mind tries to blank out any memory with their physical form in it, as though just seeing them is some kind of trauma.

I forced myself to look back at him, only to have my eyes decide on their own that they'd rather stare at the darkness next to him. I heard a derisive snort come from his direction. "What's the matter, kid? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The voice sounded human, if a bit grizzled. I looked back at the source of the sound, my subconscious expecting to find a person there. If it had been something inhuman standing in the light, I could have handled it. But I saw a humanoid form that was a mockery of the mind's idea of what a person should look like. It put him right in some horrible uncanny valley that my brain just didn't want to process. My eyes forced themselves away again. His laughter was humiliating and piercing. It was all I could do to stutter out some kind of response. "Um... er... hi."

His laughter only intensified. "Hello yourself. Name's Bertram Tung. What's the matter, don't want to shake hands?" I looked over at him for a brief moment, enough to see that he was extending a claw towards me. Fighting down my instinctual desire to slap the dangerous appendage away, I simply stared at it to avoid looking at the face. _Good God, do I have to touch that? Immune to disease, suck it up, just try and be polite, you've got to work with this... thing... for now._ I extended a shuddering hand up to the claw. I watched in terror as it clasped my hand in a death grip, pumping it vigorously up and down. It left a sticky residue after it released me. "So, kid, you have a name?"

"Um, Lucius."

He cackled again. "Your last name wouldn't be Malfoy, would it?"

I tried to narrow my eyes at him, only to have them jolt away again. I ended up just staring at the floor like a chastised child, muttering, "Funny. Lucius, childe of Serena."

"Well, Lucius... as many a hot, blonde bombshell is fond of saying – my eyes are up here." I took a breath and focused my willpower. I fixed my eyes firmly on him. I focused on the eyes, which, thought red in the iris and black where it should be white, still looked roughly human compared to the rest of the face, which I tried to blank out. Even so, I saw a smile creep across his ugly mug as I continued to stare, finally managing to force myself to keep my eyes fixed on him. I myself began smiling at the emotional triumph I had achieved. Tung cut that short, as his smile turned nasty.

"Hey, Knox, get over here. You need your fix, right?" Knox obediently, eagerly trotted up to Tung. I stared at Knox, unable to fathom how he could possibly have a look of eagerness and joy on his face as he stared at Tung. Then I saw a bloody wrist with a claw affixed to the end of it move towards Knox's face. I backed up, covering my mouth with a hand as Knox's lips wrapped around the gaping wound in the rotted flash that was oozing a mix of black blood and white pus. I watched him suck at what looked like a leper victim's wrist as I felt the blood in my stomach rise up in rebellion, as I felt my mind try to rip what I was seeing out of my memory. I continued to back up, now holding a stream of regurgitated blood back with the hand covering my mouth, now ready to sprint, when I heard-

"_Lucius! Take hold of yourself! Enter the protective void!_" Serena's words calmed me, let me pull back from the brink of panic. I crammed my ego into the bubble as quickly as I could, putting as much distance between what I was feeling and myself as possible. I froze in place, hand still on my mouth, eyes wide – but at least I wasn't about to run. "_Listen to me. I know Nosferatu are horrendous. But they are some of the most useful members of the Kindred race you will ever encounter. For the sake of your survival, you need to have this one think of you in positive terms. All Nosferatu subject those they first meet to this sort of thing, as a test. They try to horrify you, to... how do you say it in the modern vernacular? Ah. 'Gross you out.' If you can overcome your instincts, you'll gain his respect. Stare at him, unafraid, and you may be able to call on him for some sort of aid, which you desperately need at this point._"

I pried my hand from my mouth. I took a deep, shuddering breath into myself. As I exhaled it out, I forced myself to look directly into Tung's eyes, wiping all traces of fear from my face. Not to say that disgust, horror, and fear weren't still churning inside me – but Serena's voice had a wonderful calming effect, and strengthened the bubble until it was nearly impregnable – I could force these feelings back, become a cold and emotionless calculation machine, just like she had taught me.

For the first time since I had seen him, there wasn't a smirk on Tung's face. He looked down at Knox. He shoved him harshly back from his wrist before licking the wound shut with a long, leathery, lizard-like tongue. Knox fell back, surprised and bewildered. "That's enough. Take a hike, Knox. Here." Tung tossed Knox a wad of cash. "You did alright. Your apartment should be safe. Go back there, go to some club, pick up a hooker – I don't care, just split. The grown-ups have some talking to do." Knox looked from Bertam to myself, like a hurt puppy.

"Leave all the stuff I had you carry," I added before he left. He dropped my stuff on the ground before scampering off through the same hole we'd entered. Tung didn't speak again until we heard the sound of the door to the dump slamming shut.

"Look who finally made it! Thought you'd never find me, huh?"

"_Project an air of confidence. Don't let him know how green you are. If he thinks you have a chance of surviving, he won't deem helping you a waste of time, since you'll owe him a favor later."_

I walked forward, getting close to him, ignoring the smell of rotting meat coming off him. "You knew I was looking for you. So you must know what I'm here for."

Bertram let a smile creep onto his lips. "Well well, how refreshing. Straight to business, no freaking out about how I know about you and what you've been doing."

"I know you can turn invisible. I assume you've been watching me. It didn't surprise me to learn you could turn invisible, either. I'd seen that ability before."

He looked at me with interest. "Hm... so the rumors are true? Which means LaCroix is lying about the blood bond..."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well..." He leaned in conspiratorially. "...I don't know how much is exactly true, but word on the street is that your sire taught you disciplines while you were mortal... even blood magic."

I nodded. "Yeah, she did. It's the only reason I'm alive, honestly. Well, not alive exactly, but..."

Tung chuckled. "That so? So maybe what they say is true. It was the clan that put the Prince up to it..."

"Clan?" This guy was dropping great information, but he was explaining nothing. Even so, I felt like I was getting my first real glimpse into the world of the Kindred. I needed to absorb every detail.

Unfortunately, Tung wasn't forthcoming. "Never mind. So tell me, kid – Serena gave you her blood, right?"

I thought back. I didn't remember her giving me any to drink, except at the very end, during my embrace, before she drained me dry. Of course, it could have happened without my knowledge, but if the way I'd felt when I tasted Therese's blood was any indication, I knew such an act would have been burned into my mind. I shook my head. "Not until my embrace."

Tung pulled his head back and eyed me with curiosity. "Really? Then how...? Humans can't use disciplines. Ghouls can, but only because of the Kindred blood in them."

_Interesting. Good to know. _I was willing to answer his questions, but only if I was getting some answers in return. "Hold on. What were you saying about LaCroix and a... blood bond, you called it?"

Tung lowered his head, casting his eyes in shadow, making himself look even more sinister as he smirked at me. "I can see you're still in the dark about a lot of stuff. Well, let me lend you a hand and fill you in. A blood bond happens when you drink a Kindred's blood three times. You're basically their slave. A ghoul is what happens to a mortal when they drink three times – they become a useful, mortal slave. Well, some are more useful than others. And some surprise you and prove really useful after you've written them off."

I decided to surprise him and test a hypothesis at the same time. "You surprised to see that Knox actually got the feud called off, instead of being killed by Therese?"

My hypothesis was confirmed. He looked at me, impressed. "Perceptive. Yeah, pretty much."

"Okay. So what's going on with LaCroix?"

Tung put a hand up to his chin. "Well... supposedly LaCroix is claiming that you were taught disciplines, but weren't 'of the blood.' I don't know if you know much about the traditions-"

I cut him off. "I do. First Tradition. The Masquerade. Don't reveal what's going on to those 'not of the blood.' So what are you saying? My sire violated the Masquerade?" I only was able to think of this because LaCroix had basically said as much in his last email.

"Hey, I'm just saying what LaCroix is saying. Anyway, everyone's just confused, because if you weren't a ghoul, how are you using disciplines? LaCroix said you must have been only partially blood-bound, which technically isn't enough for the tradition, but enough for you to use disciplines, but I knew something fishy was up with the story. So tell me... how's that work?"

"Well, Serena showed me how to draw symbols with my blood... and with hers. That activated the disciplines. I could only make the blood magic work with her blood, but the other disciplines – Auspex and Dominate – I could make work with my blood, though it worked better with hers. But as long as I drew the symbols correctly, it would work."

"Hm..." He was stroking his chin again, deep in thought. Tung looked back up at me. "I've heard of that. Hey, tell you what. If you show me the symbols she taught you, I'll show you how everything I know about turning invisible with those same symbols."

I was just about to agree when my sire's voice screamed from inside my mind. "_Don't you even THINK of teaching him this. Good God, I knew I shouldn't have turned my attention from you for even a moment. Tung has never heard of this ability before, and he certainly doesn't know a damn thing about __symbolically activating Obfuscate or any other discipline. Nor does any Kindred outside Tremere. He's manipulating you, dishing out pieces of information that any fledgling would know, trying to pry secrets from you. Those symbols are not only proprietary clan secrets, they are the result of several cutting-edge experiments I was performing recently. I will NOT have this lowlife plagiarize my research! Deny his request._"

I sighed, realizing I'd dodged a bullet. Even so, I was a bit bitter about the fact that I'd been kept in the dark about this so far. _You know, if you let me know this stuff ahead of time, you wouldn't have to keep an eye on me._ No voice answered my sarcastic challenge. I turned to the task at hand. "Nice try. I know this stuff is secret. You've never heard of it before. Don't try to trick me again."

I could see disappointment crawl over Bertram's rotten, misshapen, inhuman face. "Well, what do you know? The infant has a brain between its ears. You might just survive this night... if you get a miracle."

I thought back to Serena's words, about convincing Tung I'd survive so I'd get him to help me. "I don't need a miracle. I know how to steal blood from a distance, how to take over minds, how to see auras through walls. I just need help. I need to learn how to sneak."

Tung snorted. "I'm not teaching you Obfuscate, kid. Even if I wanted to, there's no time."

_Obfuscate. Serena mentioned that. I assume that's the ability that lets you turn invisible. Okay, so I can't learn that._ "I didn't say I wanted to learn that. I just need to learn how to move without being noticed. Is there any way you can help me with that?"

"I suppose. What do you know about sneaking around now?"

"Um..." I thought through all my experiences with sneaking around. "I used to sneak around my office a lot. Does that count for anything?"

Tung burst into side-splitting laughter. _I guess not._ After a few seconds, he started recovering himself. "No, not at all. Heh. Well, I guess I could help you out. It's not like you'll be getting any worse." He snorted at me again, his nostrils flaring to superhuman width, the ring through his nose looking like a bull's ring.

"Thanks." _Good. I've got his promise. Now to get some information._ "So what exactly is going on with this warehouse? How many Sabbat are there? How am I supposed to do this?"

"Oh, well, I'll just get out the battle plan that Prince LaCroix drew up for you, special fucking agent Lucius. Ha! Kid, I have no fucking clue how you're supposed to pull this off. Truth is, you've been thrown under the bus here. Now, I might have some idea of how you can get out of this shit, if you're willing to take me up on an offer..."

Before Serena had intervened, I would have snapped up that bait like a goldfish. I had seen how he had tried to play me, and knew better than to bite, even without Serena intervening now. "Oh really? You'll find a way for me to be safe, even with LaCroix after me for ditching the job he's given me? So that means you'll be teaching me Obfuscate, since I get the feeling I'll need to be invisible in order to avoid his wrath."

Tung chuckled. "You're funny, kid. And a lot more aware than I expected. Just got to see what I'm dealing with, here. Not about to waste my time with some cannon fodder." I smiled, realizing that I might have pulled it off. _Now to just figure out how I'm going to survive this shit..._ "I've been watching the place. Sabbat has a bunch of lowlife humans working day and night to move stuff through there. There's some major staging going on in there."

_Wait... just humans?_ "Are there any Kindred in there? Are these ghouls I'm dealing with, or normal humans?"

"Mostly normal humans, as far as I can tell. The humans seem to know the score from the way they've been talking. I think most of them have aspirations of joining the next class of shovelheads. Ugh, losers."

"Shovelheads?" I asked in confusion.

"Um... Sabbat recruits. I'll explain it if you make it back."

"You mean when I make it back," I replied.

"Yeah, whatever. So anyway, the Sabbat like everyone to know just who they're dealing with. So they all know that a vampire might be causing trouble, and they'll be ready. If you get in there and have to bust a few heads, don't feel bad – think of it as 'upholding the Masquerade,' if that makes you feel any better."

I snorted. "I'll feel better when I come out of this in one piece. Beyond that, I don't really care."

Tung smiled up at me, and this time it seemed genuine. "Glad to see you've got your priorities straight. So tell me, Lucius, what do you have lined up to deal with these wannabe shovelheads?"

I started pulling out all my stuff, figuring that keeping my available resources secret wouldn't really help me out at this point. Had to try and impress. "Well, for any humans I encounter, I've got this handgun." I didn't know anything about guns, didn't know what caliber this was, or how to talk about it, so I just brushed past the subject. "I've got this knife for humans or Kindred." I pulled out the wicked dagger in my waist. The way Tung's eyes widened showed me that he was impressed.

"You got that off of Jeanette."

"Yeah. How did you know?"

He grinned. "Because I used to fuck that psycho. Is she really ash?"

I shuddered. I don't care how deeply in the bubble I was, that image was disturbing. And to think, a mere four years later the internet would be horrified by something as tame as Two Girls One Cup. Humans have no conception of the truly horrifying. The Tzimisce taught me that, more effectively than even the Nosferatu. "No, but she's probably staked. We're not seeing her again any time soon, that's for sure. Speaking of which, that letter you gave Knox almost got me killed."

Tung laughed at that. "Well, yeah. That was the point – to get whoever delivered the thing killed by Therese. I knew that crazy bitch Jeanette would be into randomly ruining Therese's shit for no reason, so I played into that. How the hell was I supposed to know Knox was going to pass that note on to you?"

"Fair enough. So can you get me into this place safely?"

I could see he was happy to have me cut through the bullshit. "Yes, I can. So what other equipment you working with?"

I pulled out the rest of my useful worldly possessions. "I've got this lockpicking kit. I'm okay with this. I have this stake to take care of any Kindred I get close to. And, of course, the Astrolite. Oh, and I have a six-pack of Molotov cocktails."

Bertram cocked an eyebrow. "Not bad. Tell you what. I've got an idea. How you planning on carrying that six pack?"

I shrugged. I really hadn't planned that far ahead. "In my hand?"

Tung shook his head. "Not gonna work. You need both hands free. Plus, it'll make too much noise. You'll want to stuff rags around each bottle, to keep it from rattling... and you'll want to strap that six-pack to your leg."

"Huh?"

"Like, have it on the side of your leg, so you can draw a Molotov when you need it, twist off the cap, pop a rag in, light it up if you have to... and if you need to use it, it's right there in your hand. A couple of instantly dead shovelheads."

I nodded. _Makes sense, but..._ "How exactly am I supposed to strap this to my leg?"

Tung shrugged. "Duct tape. Holds everything together. Here..." Tung reached into the back pocket of his jacket and tossed me a roll. "...have one on the house."

I looked down at the roll in my hand before laughing at myself. _All the mystical power in the world can't beat duct tape and beer bottles filled with gasoline. Well, at least my mystical power can't beat that._ I held the cardboard up to my thigh, and started running the tape around and around until everything was tightly secured. I took a step. The six-pack was held in place, but the bottles rattles like a proximity alarm going off for anyone I was approaching. I reached into my pockets to start stuffing my rags around the bottles.

"Hold on. I've got an idea. How about you try and sneak around on the way there – without the rags?"

I looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I mean sneaking with a bell around your neck makes you try harder – or with a six pack around your leg. I mean, if you'd rather take the easier route and put the rags in, be my guest."

I saw the challenge before me. _Better to try harder now and survive later._ "I see where you're coming from. Let's do this your way. So, where exactly is this place?"

"Well, if we were going there with the rest of the kine, we'd head along Mullholland, that sinuous ridge running along the edge of the Santa Monica mountains. Instead, we're crawling through the sewers. I can hop back, try and see how well you stay silent and out of sight while we're on our way there. Or we can take a cab out there, see how generous the Sabbat are with their welcome committee. Your call."

I rolled my eyes. _I may be new, but I'm not an idiot._ "Let's stick to the sewers. I assume the Sabbat won't mind the smell when I get out of there."

"Heh. It might actually help you convince them you're one of them. Hell, with that beat-up hoodie, you might be able to pass... wouldn't recommend trying the chameleon approach without Obfuscate, though. Just stick to the shadows, and stab anyone you see before they notice you. You can tell humans from vampires, right?" I nodded, remembering my Auspexial capabilities. "Good. Then stake vamps, cut human throats. It's that simple. Just don't screw up and get noticed, and you might have half a chance."

I nodded. "Anything else I should know?"

"Aside from basic survival skills? Nah. I guess you'll either get it or you won't. I get the feeling I'm about to take you to a part of this city that you rarely thought about and never visited. Well, good luck thinking on your feet."

I crossed my arms, defensive. "What makes you think I haven't seen this kind of thing before?"

Tung snorted again, disdain on his mutated face. "Look, I don't buy your whole 'been there before' act. You know enough to not be worth playing with, because I don't know what you might know – but I can still tell you're fresh. You've got a lot up here..." Tung pointed up to his lumpy head. "...but you haven't experienced too much crazy shit. So we'll see how well you hold up."

_I suppose that's an accurate enough assessment. Still, it's a bit unsettling how quickly he saw through me – as though I'm some trope or stereotype, easily predictable. _"Well, I guess we should get to it, then. Lead the way."

"I'm good to go now. Once you get there, you're on your own, though. I don't owe the prince a thing. I'm hoping to keep it that way, too." Tung turned around and moved up next to some sealed manhole in the oil drum, which he promptly opened and entered. I stood next to the sewer entrance, reminded uncomfortably of the innocent policeman I'd killed next to such a location, for no reason other than because he'd been in my way at that moment. I thought of how I'd escaped from the scene by the skin of my fangs. I let the memory fade away. Just as I was about to enter, Tung taunted me. "Scared of the dark?" Bertram's wheezing voice boomed out of the hole. "What's the matter, Kid? Don't you want to take a walk with me – through my world?"

I climbed down into darkness. I couldn't see Tung anywhere. "Where the hell are you?"

"Just follow my voice. I've never seen Sabbat come down here, but there's a first time for everything. Better safe than sorry. Which is another reason why you should try and do what I tell you, if you want to move about quietly. Alright, lesson one: crouch low and move slow. Real basic, but real important. The biggest thing is to carefully take each step, to think about where your foot's landing. The bottles rattling on your side will make you be extra careful. You'll stuff rags in there once we get to the docks."

I started moving forward, my feet carefully guided in each step, the rattling of the bottles a distinct reminder of my failure. Even so, I managed to make them rattle less and less with each step, as I moved slower and slower, focusing on becoming unheard.

After about half a mile of this, the clinking of the bottles was only occurring occasionally. I almost jumped when I heard Tung's voice from right next to my head, felt his breath brush by my ear. Thankfully, I was able to keep myself under control – there was only a small clink as I shifted my weight slightly. "Not bad. Decent form. I mean, there's enough room for improvement you could drive a truck through there, but not bad. This way." He indicated to the right and walked off. I followed. "Alright, I'm gonna give you some tips as we go forward. Most important thing, though – relax. You've got to make the motion careful but fluid. Try to unwind."

What followed was the longest unwinding of my life.


	22. Chapter 21: Endgame

**Hey everyone! So it's taken forever for me to get this chapter done – I mean, for Lucius to make it through the sewers to the Sabbat warehouse – but I'm sure Lucius wishes it was longer. However, you can't put these things off forever – LaCroix, myself, and you readers enjoy his suffering entirely too much for that. I'll give a quick shout-out to Flying Frog and RedNightmare for their reviews – I'm glad you enjoyed my snarky, manipulative Tung. Hope you like this explosive finale to Lucius' Santa Monica misadventures just as much.**

… …

"Here we are," Tung informed me.

I wasn't ready for this. Sure, the journey had taken over an hour – carefully sneaking the whole way over had a way of making things take awhile. Even so, I wasn't ready for this. I mean, who could be? _I still have no clue how I'm supposed to take care of this. _I tried to stall. "So, um, any more tips?"

Tung looked me over. "Yeah, but none that would help you at this point. Look, you can try and put this off, sit, meditate, pray, whatever you want. It's not going to help. You may as well just get out there and try it. Either you'll survive, or... I mean, if you want out, I still have that offer..."

I wasn't dumb enough to take that up. He had a point. "Yeah, thanks and all, but I suppose you're right. Best to just do this. So, um... where does this manhole take me to?"

"Some abandoned house, just outside the docks proper. They have the humans sleep there in piled up mattresses during the day, but right now it should be mostly empty. Great entrance point. Stay quiet and clear out the building to start with. To give you a general feel for what's going on, you're on the eastern end, and the docks are west of here. The office you need to plant the astrolite in, the one right over the giant stockpile of weapons that will make this place light up like the Fourth of July – its on the far western end of the warehouses, right before the docks and the water. So, standing between you and your goal are a bunch of humans, a few ghouls, and the two to five vamps in charge of this dump. Hope you don't run into the vamps. Most Sabbat that aren't fresh recruits tend to be very tough physically – don't think you're surviving if you don't get the drop on them, either with the stake or with the fire."

I nodded, logging away this information for later. "Got it. And if I stake them, I either set them on fire or cut off their head, like you said. Hey, um... can I just drink them dry?" I don't quite know why the idea of killing a Kindred that way occurred to me. An opportunity to slate my thirst, I supposed. And I found the idea of drinking vampire blood a bit appealing, given how the first taste had felt...

Tung looked me over. "Damn, Lucius. That's called Diablerie. It's very looked down on by the Cam. Sabbat loves it. Now, if no one's around, you could do it anyway. I mean, there's no evidence left. They say draining a vampire dry is the greatest experience you can ever have – and one of the most dangerous and addictive. Not a lot of Kindred comfortable being around someone who wants to drink them dry. Plus, they say some of your clan..." Tung nodded in my direction. "...and the fucking Toreador can see if you've committed Diablerie. Malks, too. I'd say, can't be too careful. Then again, you're probably gonna die, and you may as well get to enjoy that shit while you can. Your call, really."

I knew then and there that I had to resist the urge to take a drink – it was essentially an admission that I thought I was going to die, that nothing long-term mattered. I couldn't give up hope. I wanted to stop thinking about the act, so I started speaking about something else. "So how do I deal with Sabbat? I mean, the vampires themselves. How do I keep them from knowing I'm there? They have supernatural senses, like we do."

"Well... Not too many can tell human from kindred – hell, most are lucky to be aware of anything beyond the basics and Sabbat propaganda... and most are morons, to boot. But that's no excuse to be sloppy – you never know when you'll encounter the rare intelligent Sabbat. Maybe they have someone in charge of this place who's been around awhile. Just... stay quiet, kill as you go, and keep things on the down low and you _might_ make it to the office. As for getting out in one piece... just run your ass off and hope for the best. Good luck, kid. I'm out."

I turned around to ask Tung another question, but he was already gone. I sighed in frustration. I activated Auspex, and I swear that I once again saw the glimmerings of an aura, like a black flame that kept being blown out and relit later on, further away, until it faded away into the darkness. Still... _At least I had some visual cue he was there. Better than nothing._ With a sigh, I looked at the ladder in front of me, leading to the manhole above. I felt my stomach ball up at the thought of what might be up there, what kind of viper's nest was awaiting me. I suddenly wished Tung was here, that I could ask him for a way out... but it was too late for that. Like with my chance at escape with the thin-bloods, I'd missed my opportunity. _And if his plans for Knox were any indication, I'm much better off on my own... provided I live through this... which is a pretty big "if." Okay, calm down Lucius._ I took an unnecessary breath. _Task at hand. Tung was right. Nothing for it but to do it. Just gotta get up there and play it by ear._

I took a step and heard the bottles clink. I chastised myself for not moving carefully, then stuffed rags into the six-pack to silence the bottles. I crawled up and opened the manhole carefully.

I came out into a dark alleyway. I was secluded. _Good. There isn't someone here to blow my head off the instant I step out of the sewers. At least I know Tung wasn't setting me up._ With a sigh, I carefully moved forward.

In the sewers, Tung had taught me a lot about sneaking. It was more than just moving slowly and deliberately – it was about getting in touch with something primal inside you, something that stalks the night and hides in the shadows. I asked if he meant the Beast – he said that maybe it was an aspect of the Beast, but the Beast itself didn't have the self control necessary to pull it off. It was like... stretching the Beast out, using its desires and abilities to your advantage. I was just starting to get a feel for that when Tung informed me that we had made it here. Now I had to make use of this newfound ability as best I could if I wanted to survive.

I slowly exited the alcove I was in. I carefully looked around the corner, peeking my head out. Nothing but mud, sliding in through three arches into an abandoned section of sewers. I sighed in relief. I was about to step forward when I thought of something. I activated Auspex. I scanned carefully for any sign of aura. I saw none. Finally able to relax, I stepped forward, making the decision to keep Auspex constantly active for my entire time here.

I moved towards the arches. Two were obstructed by rubble. I carefully made my way up the slope of the third, picking my way around debris, avoiding making noise and causing disruption. The slope ended in what used to be a bathroom - the floor had fallen out, the toilet was on its side, and the sink had fallen off the wall. I carefully reached up and pulled myself onto the tile, making sure not to make a sound. I heard footsteps nearby, right outside the closed door in front of me. I saw glimmers of aura through the door. I froze. The aura moved away from me.

My throat clenched in fear. _Calm down. It's only a normal human. It's moving away, meaning it's facing away from you. Draw your knife and carefully exit the room._ I pulled my knife from its sheath, and ever so slowly turned the knob, staying quiet. Praying that the door wouldn't creak, I gently moved it open. It didn't make a sound.

I could see the person directly in front of me. He was taking a piss in a urinal, facing the wall. I almost laughed in relief. I caught the sound before it reached my throat. _I'm not safe yet. _ I snuck forward, each footstep a carefully planned maneuver, as I became a predator, a silent and terrible killer in the night. I was directly behind him. He pissed on, oblivious.

_Alright, just the way Tung taught me._ We had encountered a corpse as we went through the sewers. "Heh. Sometimes I just can't be bothered to clean up after meals," Tung had joked. I'd shuddered. He'd had me practice ways of killing someone silently on the body. I played the lessons over in my mind as I performed them for the first time on the living.

I stood up silently. With my left hand, I grabbed the man by the face, covered his mouth, held him still. An instant later, the knife was at his throat. "Press into the flesh and slice at the same time. Make sure you get in there deep – you have to make sure their windpipe is completely severed, otherwise they can still breathe and make noise, and you're fucked." I pressed deep enough. With a gurgle, the man fell back, his eyes looking up at me in terror as he spasmed on the ground, his hands clutching his throat, his dick hanging out of his fly, still pissing, as he desperately gasped for vitalizing oxygen that he could no longer get and I no longer needed. I stabbed him in the heart to stop his motion, in case he made too much sound and attracted attention.

He was still. He was dead. I looked down at the knife I'd used to kill him. I was slightly hungry. I licked the knife clean.

I looked around. Nothing else here in this bathroom. I turned around and went back. The room was a bare save for the way I'd come in and one other door leading out. I carefully went up to the door, looking for any auras. The were none. I went through.

The building was a mess. The walls had collapsed or been smashed in, with the support beams laid bare, and in many places those were smashed over. To my right a trashcan fire lit up the room with an orange glow. Various ruined rooms were laid bare and filled with wreckage from the walls and whatever used to be the furnishings of the place. There were mattresses all over the derelict wreck. I made my way carefully forward until I saw an aura up ahead.

The aura belonged to a thug standing in a doorway. He was smoking a cigarette and facing away from me. As I moved carefully towards him, I got a craving for a cig myself. It then occurred to me that I could experience the same sensation by drinking the man's blood. And I was hungry... I was right behind him. In a flash, I grabbed him and jammed my fangs into his neck.

I was right. In fact, the pleasure and the intensity of the sensation when gathered through the blood was far more intense and enjoyable than when I absorbed the chemical directly into my lungs. I felt the joy of the blood lift me up on top of the wave of memories. I felt a strange existence flood into me, the life of a sabbat thug named Colin. Colin had started life on the streets, in a broken neighborhood where no one had a chance at going anywhere except through crime. He'd done well at one of the few employable skills someone in his position could profit off of. He was great at violence. He moved up the ranks, and finally had made it into the upper layers of his gang - only to find that all the gangs in southeast were run by one big gang that played the violent groups off one another to train them in a lifestyle of constant violence. Now that he was part of this overarching syndicate, he would be involved in the real war. A war stretching back thousands of years. He'd been told about vampires, been told the end of the world was at hand, that ancient, powerful beings were going to arise and devour everything, and he was part of the only group that could stop it. He'd experienced shock at what he'd learned, but he couldn't deny the evidence of his own eyes. He'd seen some fucked up stuff lately. He wasn't sure what to think. But he knew the price of disobedience. He'd seen _that_ with his own eyes, too. And he was told that if he did well, he might become a vampire himself and get some of those supernatural powers. That was the only goal he could set for himself, now – working further up the ranks of this insane group he was now a part of.

All his goals and hopes, his fears and regrets, his memories and personality traits passed away with him as I sucked the last drops of blood from his arteries and left none of who he was in his body.

I let Colin's corpse fall to the floor. _Interesting. I wonder what exactly it is that the Sabbat believe? Is it just bullshit they feed to the humans? What's really going on, I wonder?_ I sighed in confusion. _Task at hand, Lucius._

I was outside now. There were some burned-out cars, trashcan fires – it was an urban wasteland. I wandered around, staying quiet, scanning with Auspex. The only sign of life was was a bum warming himself off of a fire. I left him alone – I felt a little guilty about Colin, despite the fact that he was Sabbat and I needed to kill him. I wasn't really hungry, and I'd feel bad just feeding from some random bum who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I came to a large area full of shipping containers and train cars. The area seemed cleaner, with less urban debris around – I mean, I wouldn't call it clean, so much as cleared. In any case, things were a bit more quiet, and whole area simply began seeming more unnerving. It felt more and more like hostile territory than neutral wasteland. Hard concrete betrayed the sound of my footsteps. Bare storage containers and train cars could be hiding Sabbat behind or in them... and there was just something about this place, something I could sense through Auspex but not understand, something which made me uneasy. I proceeded carefully.

"What the fuck is going on here? Marcus is on everyone's case and shit!"

"I don't know, extra security. Something big's coming in, I hear."

I crouched low next to a train car, listening, looking at two aural outlines I could see through the car, just around the corner.

"So what?" asked voice one. "We get hot shit all the time. What's so different about this one?"

"I dunno. Marcus is tense as a motherfucker. Maybe he heard something." I tensed up at that. _Do they know I'm coming? Did LaCroix make sure they knew I was coming? Is Marcus their leader?_

"Like what?"

"Hell if I know. I just know that we better stay on point, and those fools in the warehouse better stop playing cards before Marcus comes out and starts peeling some caps, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I hear that."

_Shit. What do I do now? I guess just proceed forward with even more caution. Avoid these guys – they're on the lookout._ I headed away from them, around another nearby train car, treating each step like it was the most important thing on Earth, planting it with care.

I moved through a series of containers, watching for auras, listening with Auspex. There were several points when I noticed someone coming and hid until they passed – only once did I have to kill to move on, and I made quick work of the man guarding the spot and hid his body under the nearby train. Soon, I came to a large warehouse that loomed up like some kind of fortress._ Okay, I'm here. Now how the hell do I get inside?_

There was a vast expanse of emptiness between the warehouse and the nearest trains. With Auspex, I could see that there were thugs with military-grade machine guns placed along the the top windows of the warehouse. _Great. Really wish Tung had taught me Obfuscate now. I'll be gunned to pieces before I get across – and even if I survive that, everyone knows I'm here. Shit._ I decided to move along with the trains, see if I could find a better entrance point.

I heard them as they were carefully, frightfully whispering to one another right as I saw the auras – right before I nearly rounded the corner and would have stumbled onto the group. _Strange. I should have had more warning than that._ The Auras looked dim, like I was seeing them through shadows. I crouched low, drawing air back across my teeth as I came to a halt, entering the bubble, stilling my breath, straining my ears.

"…don't give a shit what you think. If there's even a chance there's an intruder, we investigate. Colin didn't call to check in. We're still waiting on Jorge to come back with the report, but we're not taking any chances. We stick together, inside the circle of shadow, and we sweep the area – quietly. Whatever has decided to fuck with us, it's crafty and careful if we haven't noticed it yet. We spook it, it might bolt – and then come back again another night. Or report the layout of our base. Or, if it sees us before we see it, it might jump out of the darkness and rip out a few throats. So stay quiet and follow me, humans."

I'd had enough time to notice that the one talking was a vampire – and the rest were ghouls. There were about 8 people in all. I was fucked if they found me. _Rip out a few throats. Yeah, right. I'd be lucky to take out one of them. Fuck._ I could run and hide… but it was clear that as soon as they realized that Colin was dead, there would be a total sweep of the area – and if I couldn't turn invisible, I'd be found. _Hell, they'd probably find me even if I could. Fuck! Calm down. Think. Gotta come up with a plan._ I crafted one right as they began to move. It was simple, but effective.

I carefully reached down to my side. I pulled a bottle out. With utmost care, I twisted the cap off. The hiss of escaping gasoline vapors blasted out like an explosion.

"What was that?" I froze.

"I don't hear anything."

"Shhhhh!" I became a statue, unmoving, umbreathing, unblinking.

"Let's move." As the sound of quiet, carefully placed and strangely muffled footsteps began, I scrambled. I grabbed the rag, stuffed it in, soaked it, and pulled out my zippo.

A strange mass of shadow moved around the corner of the shipping container. I stayed low, holding the zippo up to the rag, but afraid to light anything lest I give away my position. Several pitch-black silhouettes walked into view. They would have blended into the surrounding shadow if I wasn't so close, and if I couldn't see their auras. I crouched in my own little corner of darkness, afraid to attack, knowing I had to. _Wait for it…_

I saw the vampire come into view. I spun the wheel. The rag lit the instant the flame sparked into existence, bursting forth like bright orange blossom among the black. The light ran into a wall of darkness, barely illuminating the area, bringing only the barest glimmer of color to the dark shapes of people. The vampire looked up at me with wide, black eyes, boring into me with malevolent surprise. Several people bumped into him, startled by his sudden stop.

I raised the bottle. The vampire opened his mouth, revealing a deep cavern that seemed to stretch forever. Everything flickered in dancing shadows that seemed to twist impossibly and reach towards me, driven by a will beyond my comprehension, whispering of an infinite oblivion that lay beyond the edges of existence.

I hurled the bottle with all my strength directly at the Kindred before me.

A sharp light burst into existence, blinding me. An instant later, a roiling, orange fireball curled upwards and flew into the sky.

I didn't stay to view the aftermath. I turned and ran.

I flew, mortal terror driving me, the dark whisperings of oblivion that I had experienced whipping me into a near-frenzy state. I saw a gap between train cars. I ducked between them, pressing my back against the cold metal, halting the unnecessary breath, becoming still and silent. I heard the inferno behind me, saw it casting light before me. I heard shouting from all around. I had no idea what to do now. Everything had gone to hell. _So much for getting in quietly._ I looked to my right. The guards were still in the windows, still gripping the mounted automatic weapons tightly, scanning about intently, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. _So I've done nothing to improve my situation. Great._

Someone bolted past me on my left. I swear my heart jumped into my throat, even though it no longer beat. A moment later, someone else rushed past. I saw that no one else was coming. I flipped around, my back pressed up against the other train car so I could see what was going on.

Flamed danced upwards directly from the ground, rising and falling in an undulating dance of death that chased the dark away, but cast deep shadows, like it was involved in some strange dance with the black around it. The two men were standing next to the fire, gawking at it. Suddenly, a flaming mass leapt forward, reached out, and grabbed one of the people, shoving fangs into his neck. His companion stared for a moment, before turning around and bolting back the way he'd come. I decided to join him. I stepped out from my hiding spot and began running away from the fire and the Kindred I'd failed to kill with it.

I turned and looked behind me. The mortal was now fleeing in blind terror, having lost all reason and self-control. The vampire behind him had put most of the flames out, but smoke was still rising off him like a mass of bilious shadows that struck me with the same existential fear of the material void reaching out and obliviating existence that had overwhelmed me earlier. The creature had become darkness incarnate – flesh and clothes charred to black, smoke rising from it, with pitch-black eyes bearing down on its target – me.

"Stop!" His voice ordered me, echoing inside my mind, bending my will to its own. Even so, my raw fear fought the chains of command, creating a writhing chaos within my thoughts. I retreated to the bubble and bore down my willpower. I wrenched my eyes from the blackness of his, turned my head to face forwards, and pedaled my feet as fast as they would carry me.

I ran without thinking – ran as fast and as far as I could. I only stopped running when a hand grabbed the back of my neck. I felt myself lifted up, but my speed was not reduced. I saw the metal flying towards me. Next thing I knew, my face was being smashed into the cold steel of a shipping container.

I felt the impact. I felt my front teeth shatter. I felt them jam through my lower lip, puncturing it as they flew from my gums at high speed. I felt my nose smash to the side, felt the bridge crack. I felt the bone structure of my face cave in. Right as I hit the steel I felt a darkness envelop me, like a dark thick smog that was so thick it felt like mud, reaching into me, into my wounds, smothering me, infecting me, filling me.

I spit the dark toxin out of my mouth along with my teeth. I felt immersed in some sticky darkness. It pressed upon me with such weight that I felt as though the steel container was the ground. I pushed myself up. I crawled forward, desperate to escape from the morass, only to find actual gravity pull me back downward. I felt myself sinking into a congealing darkness, into some overwhelming essence of nothingness that desired to consume everything, negate all, destroy all. I felt all that I was, all that I had consumed being pulled into the thick sludge of nothingness, and I felt a comfort in the nothingness, an easy letting go, like I wouldn't have to worry about anything, like all my concerns would just melt away...

"_Get up! Run!_" I needed nothing more than that. The desire to exist flooded back into me, and I expelled the gunk from my throat with a terrible scream. I wrenched myself from the dark with a burst of effort. I found myself stumbling forth from some mud-thick chrysalis, clawing my way to freedom, stumbling forth with an inhuman cry. I felt hands reach out and pull me back into the void. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wooden stake, shoving it into the general direction of what I thought was his heart. I heard a screech as the shadow-mud thinned and spasmed. With a herculean effort, I freed myself from my thick prison. The mortal who'd been fleeing before was staring in horror. I looked up at him with desperation, and I saw only some other sentient creature, something other than the consuming darkness. I reached out to him, pathetically begging, "Help!" He only backed up, hand on mouth, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what was occurring in front of his eyes. I must have looked like some kind of swamp thing, dark oblivion dripping off of me, blood leaking down my face, eyes desperate and mad. I bolted forward, past the stupefied onlooker.

I saw a ladder leading up the shipping container. I climbed, desperate to be away from the liquid shadow chasing me.

At the top, I crouched low and looked down. I did not see the creature, only a mass of shadow – and at its center, a mass of shadow so thick it was no longer liquid – it was solid. While I could not comprehend what I was seeing, I knew what I needed to do. Another bottle left the case. Another rag was stuffed in the neck. The dark mass looked up as it was lit. Once again, I saw a dark maw of infinite oblivion warp the shadows around me as I raised the bottle. Once again, I hurled the consuming light at the encompassing shadow. The world cracked as they collided.

The flame banished the shadow, the terrible darkness I had once hidden in, which had become a being with its own mind, my bane. The writhing, chaotic light was now my only ally, even as it filled me with instinctual fear – yet the fear I felt was as nothing compared to the fear of the dark which had gripped me only a moment before. The scream which emanated from the fiery mass was a comfort, as was the flame-enveloped figure which flew from it for a few yards before collapsing into dust. I collapsed into myself in a sigh of relief.

I climbed down as I healed my face. The human was huddled in a corner, shivering in terror. He looked up at me with wild eyes. I didn't know what to do with him. _Should I kill him? He doesn't seem like a threat. But how do I deal with him? What's my situation here? Um..._

He answered my questions for me with another question. "Dude, what the fuck just happened?" I now had a chance to provide him with answers, to give him context.

"_Pretend you're Sabbat. Pretend the Lasombra you just dispatched was the intruder. He doesn't know any better. Use his ignorance to you advantage._" Serena's advice was the only guiding principle I had in this madness. I followed it obediently, as though it was the voice of God. After all, what else was there to lead me along any path? "Um... I don't know. I don't know what the fuck that was. I, um... shit. Just follow me. We need to get to safety before it kills us."

"What? You mean it's not dead yet?" He was in absolute terror. _Maybe I went to far... just gotta play it off._

"I don't think so. But it um... it ran. Yeah. Let's find some people and get to the warehouse. We'll be safe there." _Best plan I can come up with. Let me know if I need to do better, Serena._

He nodded emphatically. "Dude, yeah. Let's find some people. People with weapons. What the fuck, man! I'm so glad to have a vamp on hand! Um... should we be worried, or some shit? I know we're supposed to be scared of nothing, not even death, but..."

I got a vague hint at the death cult that was the Sabbat in his words, in the memories of Colin. I played into it. If a vampire said you needed to be scared, you panicked. "Yeah, we should be scared. Let's get the fuck out of here. Now." He nodded obediently. "Lead me to people. I don't know this section. I just got called out here to deal with shit." He led.

As I followed him, I couldn't help but recall Tung's words. "...wouldn't recommend trying the chameleon approach without Obfuscate, though." And yet, here I was, trying to blend in. Eventually, we came upon some group of unfortunates. They were standing around, trying to look tough, holding various automatic weapons. _Oh fuck. I'm way out of my league here... Stay calm. You look like one of them. Just act the part and they'll accept you. Don't panic._

My companion walked up to them, relieved. I followed behind him, desperately seeking social cover. The group of thugs was nervous and trigger-happy. I could tell by their auras that they were about to fire on us. I was ready to bolt. The man in front of me assured the heavily-armed group. "Hey, guys! It's me, Dan! Dan Sticky? You know me, right?" The group sighed and relaxed, recognizing the man. I all but collapsed in relief.

"Dude! What the fuck is going on?" I could sense the desperation in their voice. Thankfully, I could also detect relief and trust in the group's auras.

"Um..." Dan turned to me. "I'm not sure. He knows!"

_Great. Improvisation time._ "Um..." I took a moment to concoct an excuse. "...I don't really know what the thing is that's attacking us. It walks in shadow, it um... looks like a monster... and it can take a lot of damage. I already threw two molotovs at it, and it keeps going. We, uh... need to watch out for random shadows and strange creatures. Just, um... let's get to the warehouse. We'll be safe there. Yeah. We need to tell... Marcus about this. It's a way bigger problem than he thought." To my immense relief, they bought it. The little group started moving off towards the central fortress of this place, me in tow.

"Hey, uh, if you don't mind me asking – what's that?" One of our group was pointing at the six-pack taped to my side.

"Huh? Oh, that. Molotov cocktails. Have them there for easy access. See, you just grab one up..." I demonstrated. "...stuff the rag in, soak it, and you're good to go. Hell, if I hadn't had this in easy reach earlier, me and Dan would be dead right now. In fact, I should probably light this one up, just in case." I pulled up my zippo and made myself a very dangerous torch.

"Dude! That's a great idea! I'm totally going around with that setup from now on!" _Great. Here I am, giving Sabbat thugs ideas. Still, it does feel nice to have someone praise you._

"Heh, man, I love Yuengling," a female thug added.

I smiled over at her. "So did I, when I was alive. But I didn't pick that brand for sentimentality. I picked it because you can reseal the bottle caps, so I don't have to worry about spilling gasoline as I walk." The woman nodded, impressed. _Weird. I'm actually starting to like these people. I hope they get out of this alright... wait, if I succeed they'll all be burnt to a crisp. Well... shit. No way around it, unless I feel like marching up to Marcus and asking to join the Sabbat. Or maybe I could leave, go visit LaCroix, and tell him that I decided not to perform the mission he gave me because some of the thugs at the docks are alright people! Yeah... I guess I have no choice but blow this place up._

We approached the massive fortress, the moat-like gap stretching before us. The group calmly walked out into the dead zone, and I followed closely, trying to blend in. We had made it almost all the way across, nearly up to two large double-doors that loomed like a gateway, when we were accosted. A voice screamed from the windows above the doors. "Hey! No one comes in or out. Marcus' orders."

Everyone looked at me. _Shit. Um..._ "Situation's changed! Whatever's out there is way stronger than we thought. Everyone is supposed to get inside. Marcus's orders."

"Yeah? And who the fuck are you?"

_Oh shit oh shit I'm gonna get found out oh shit... calm down calm down. _"Uh..."

At that moment, circumstance intervened. A strange creature began crawling out of the shadows nearby, it itself wrapped in shadow. I could see that there were actually two beings, one a deformed abomination, the other a mass of shadow. I could only see this due to Auspex, however – to all other onlookers, it seemed like one being – a monster enveloped in shadow. I seized the opportunity. "There it is! The thing attacking us! Run!"

My group needed no more encouragement. They bolted towards the doors, even as the two beings slowly made their way towards us, confused. We ran up to the gate, but the keepers were unwilling to let us pass. "Are you sure? That seems just like..."

I could grasp the thought behind the words, sense the accusation in his voice – i_t just looks like some Sabbat Kindred_. I knew I had to act. Desperate, I could come up with only one way out. I activated Purge – lightly.

My group found themselves suddenly nauseous – as did those inside the warehouse. Since I was furthest from the door, it seemed like the nausea was being projected from something far beyond the door – and the closer the pair of vampires came to the door, the stronger I forced Purge onto everyone. I tried to avoid making it deadly, tried to just project the sensation of wretched, nauseous, bilious vomit – it wasn't hard, given that I felt on the verge of puking out of fear myself.

"What the fuck? What is this?" I saw my companion, Dan, screaming next to me unintelligibly as he vomited at high volume, though it was only normal vomit – for now. The screaming voice was coming from inside the warehouse. I had to answer them.

"It's that thing! Let us in before it kills us! Hurry!" I rushed up to the gate and slammed on the metal with my fist. There was no response. The pair began getting closer. I was now faced with a dilemma – maintain the facade, or fight this threat. Suddenly, I realized I could do both.

I hurled my molotov at the shadowy abomination.

The curling flame drove the shadowy beasts back, and in my relief I let Purge go right as it fled.

I looked around. There were huddled, vomiting figures all around. Those closest to me – Dan, the admiring onlookers – had blood in their puke. The people inside the door were puking a bit, too. I spoke up. "Listen, I don't know what that is, but it's way worse than we thought. We all need to get inside before it comes back – _now_. I've already thrown three molotovs at it and it keeps going. If we don't stick together, we're going to die."

I convinced them. The doors swung open. Those closest to the door bolted in immediately. Those near me continued to vomit, oblivious. I shepherded them inside. They pulled themselves to sanctuary, leaving a trail of bloody puke behind them. The doors closed behind me with a resounding clang.

I looked around at the vomiting misery about me. _So I've ripped these people's lives apart and turned them on the only form of order they've known. Well... it's not as fucked up as my final goal, which is to murder them all. Task at hand. How do I achieve these goals? I can worry about the philosophical implications of my actions once I've made them real._ _Um... need to get out of sight... need to sneak..._ I looked upwards and saw rafters reaching across the place... giving access to everything... and there was a ladder leading upwards to some man intently leaning on a military machine gun... a gun facing outwards... outwards towards a threat I'd created...

"Look, I need to get up. Um... up where I can see the thing coming. I can, uh, see better than you humans. I have molotovs. I'll tell that human to come down and warn Marcus. Um.. yeah." No one objected. No one supported me. They were all distracted with their own horror. "Um... so I'm climbing up. Don't let anything in." Someone nodded. I returned the gesture before turning to the ladder and climbing.

I reached the top. The watchman just about stabbed me in horror once I cleared my throat. "Woah! Calm down!" I exclaimed. "Look... there's been a... uh.. change of plans. You need to, uh..." _What do I need? I need to know where the central office is. Have him go there. _ "...go warn Marcus. Yeah. Things have gone crazy. Go to the central office. He should be there. I'll hold your post. Go." I made the final command with my blood to ensure compliance. It worked. He climbed down.

I held his post for as long as it took for him to crawl down and scramble towards my destination. I carefully crawled along narrow steel support systems, each step an act of gentle balance. It was similar to sneaking, except a misstep would mean I plummet several stories to the hard concrete below, instead of just risking being discovered. I moved along the narrow steel supports as best I could. Those below me were oblivious. I followed the lone figure that moved forward with a false sense of purpose, praying that my ruse would prove sufficient. It did.

The man walked up to a meathead, musclebound ghoul that was guarding some room. "Hey," he anounced to the unmoving statue, "I need to talk to Marcus."

"You and a lot of people. What's your crisis?"

"Um..." I could see he was struggling to explain. I moved forward, trying to situate myself above what was obviously the central office. "...there's something out there. Uh... something way worse than Marcus thought. Some vampire sent me here to tell him this... he's holding my post... honest..." His explanations were sounding sad and pathetic even to my ears. What must have seemed like a simple and clear-cut errand was now bizarre and confusing. _Funny, how quickly the urgency of panic fades._ _It' useful in the right circumstances, but it's not really a good long-term... anything. _

"Well, Marcus is leading a search party around the premises. I'm sure he knows what's gong on. Back to your post, lick." _Wait, was that Marcus I killed? Goddam am I lucky I brought molotovs. So they're leaderless? _

"But, but..." his mind was trying to remember why exactly it needed to be so afraid, what the desperate message it was supposed to deliver was – but it couldn't remember, because the message was inherently bizarre and nonsensical – all I'd been trying to do was to get him to leave. I'd succeeded. Now he turned back, dumbfounded _Doesn't matter. You've led me to my target._

As I contemplated what I was going to do next, I overheard an interesting altercation.

"I'm hungry." One man said. "Let's order a pizza."

The meathead who'd sent my messenger away turned to the hungry individual. "Order a pizza? Order a pizza? Where the hell are they going to deliver it? 13 abandoned warehouse full of killers lane? The fuck you thinking?"

The man, ashamed, tried to backpedal. "I could go pick it up..."

"No! No one's going anywhere 'til we know what's going on!"

"I mean... I could really use something to fill me up..."

"How about I put a bullet in your head! Would that fill you up alright?"

"N-no boss, I'm okay."

Even I thought that was stupid. _Time to hop down, while they're distracted._ I saw the office below me. I carefully pulled myself down, hanging from the rafter, before letting go. I felt my legs vibrate at the impact, felt myself crumble into a ball as I smashed into cold steel.

"What was that?" I lay still, healing, quiet. I waited for the commotion around me to die down, like an agitated swarm of bees deciding that they were better off just going back to the hive. Eventually everything stilled. I slowly uncurled. I pushed myself up. _Okay. I'm here. Gotta get inside... wait, do I? I mean... couldn't I plant the Astrolite on the office? That would do the same thing, right? I mean, this office is on top of a pile of munitions, and Mercurio said the bomb was absurdly strong, so I should be good. Yeah... sounds like a plan._

I pulled the backpack off and set it down. As I unzipped it and pulled out the astrolite, I thought back to when I had obtained these possessions – back to Dennis, my chemist counterpart who'd ended up having a slight divergence earlier in life lead to a whole different path – I wondered what the man would think, if he could know that his Astrolite was being used in this way, right here, right now. I then wondered what my strange mystical-seeking group of friends would think, what my coworkders would think, what Sherry would think, what my old college friends would think, what my dead parents would think. Then I shook my head to clear if of these strange reflections, reminded myself that none of that mattered because I'd be dead if I didn't pull this off, and turned my attention to channeling Dennis' memories to properly arm this bomb.

I fumbled around, terrified of screwing this up, terrified of making noise, terrified of the moral implications of the lives the explosion was about to consume, terrified at the thought of how the hell I was going to get out of here. I was given no relief – suddenly, my competence betrayed me, the bomb was armed, and I had three minutes to get the hell out of here before I died.

I stood for a moment, stupefied and terrified, unsure what to do. Then I realized that there was only one thing to do – run. Run as fast as I could before the fire consumed me. I hopped down from the office roof and started sprinting blindly.

I didn't really pay attention to anything – I knew the general direction of the exit, and that was all that mattered. I heard shouts. I heard gunshots. I felt gunshots. I didn't slow until I felt a shotgun blast rip the right side of my face of and knock me over.

I Rose Against the pressure of death. I had come to far to give up now. I forced Purge out. I saw the blood fly forth from mouths that had cried forth in dismay and warning. I let them expel their essence, facilitate the internal disintegration. None of it would matter soon.

I ran to the exit. Dan and the others looked up in terrified confusion, appealing to me for answers. I had nothing to offer them but betrayal and oblivion. A moment later, an inhuman monster smashed open the door and leapt at me as shadows reached towards me, as though the darkness beyond was slithering out like the tentacles of some Cthulu-like essense of the beyond.

My allies proved far more true than I was. Half began firing blindly into the dark, while the other half fired at the monstrosity on top of me that was trying to rip my throat into shreds with long, sharp claws. The creature looked up in confusion as the shadows retreated. I took a moment to collect myself from the edge of death. I projected all my horror, all my nausea, all my wretched existential terror and self-loathing over my amoral self-interest. Everyone around me, friend and foe, monster and temporary ally began spewing their flesh and blood from their mouths. I pulled myself up and fled.

I ran past some pathetic, fat individual that was vomiting black blood and blocking most of the doorway. If I wasn't panicking, I probably would have sarcastically remarked to myself about how sad he was once stripped of his otherworldly shadows. As it was, I just kept running.

I ran out into the night, scrambling past the no-mans-land. I felt bullets whiz past me and into me, but I knew that at this point nothing mattered but putting distance between me and the warehouse. I ran past some containers, putting metal between me and the bullets.

I flew on, ignoring the surprised shouts of various thugs. None of them fired – I was coming from their home base, after all, They probably assumed I was on some errand. I found a lone thug, intently staring away from me, clutching a nasty-looking shotgun. I felt my thirst, my beast rise up. I pounced and fed. Now no longer starving, I moved on after grabbing the shotgun the man had been carrying.

As I neared the point I'd entered, I felt the weight of terror slide off me – far too soon. I encountered a group of ghouls, complete with a warped monstrosity in their center, growing spike-tipped tentacles from his back, long wretched-looking claws, a jaw half a foot long filled with serrated fangs, and lizard-like scales all over his body. All I could think of to do was to level the shotgun at the group and fire repeatedly. That killed a few ghouls and slowed the attack down – but it certainly wasn't enough. I backed up, preparing to run, having no idea where I was going that was safe – the fire of the explosion would be behind me, monstrous was death before me.

A wolf jumped down from a train car and pounced upon the vampire. Everyone, myself included, stopped and stared at the phenomenon. It ripped the Kindred's throat out so thoroughly that there was nothing left – the head was detached, and the body turned to ash. After a moment of shock, the ghouls ran.

The white wolf turned to me. I took a moment to decide which was a more sensible option – running back to the warehouse, or dealing with this wolf. Then the creature started transforming before my eyes into a man. He was tall, with long dark hair, a rough leather trenchcoat, and strange, yellow eyes hidden behind glasses. My mind was so confused I didn't know what to make of it all, so I simply gawked. The man before me returned only a bemused smirk and looked me over once, assessing me, cataloging me.

"I assume we need to be gone from here shortly?" I nodded, dumbstruck. He simply turned around and walked into the building I'd come from. I followed, having no idea what was going on, praying that I wasn't about to die.

As we entered the edifice, I heard a terrible roar behind me, saw a light burst forth like high noon, and felt a wave of pressure assault me. Still, there was distance and thick concrete walls between me and the blast, and while it felt like a typical LA earthquake was going on and a few support beams crumbled, I was okay. The man (_Kindred, his aura is black... though I would have guessed werewolf_) turned back to me. " The warehouse... your handiwork, I presume?" I could only nod mutely. "Hopefully, no Sabbat saw you escape. They can be somewhat... antagonistic."

Now that it was clear that this Kindred wasn't hostile or after anything obvious, I was able to relax a little. "Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for helping me. Who are you?"

"I see, for once, my reputation does not precede me. My name is Beckett." He extended a hand in greeting. It was bizarre, the courtesy being offered here, in this run-down ruin amid the fiery death outside. I shook Beckett's hand.

"Okay, Beckett. My name's Lucius. Lucius, childe of Serena. So, um... why are you here?"

He seemed to ignore my question, instead moving the conversation with a tangential slash. "Tell me, have you seen or felt anything strange since your embrace?"

I couldn't wrap my head around the question. "Um... yeah. Everything. Warped megolomaniacs running Santa Monica, the prince trying to have me killed, strange thin-bloods by the beach..."

Once again Beckett cut me off. "Thin-bloods! They're a fascination of mine. They are considered a weaker, more human-like Kindred than most, hence the name "thin-blood," yet they are sired same as the rest of us. I've heard a large concentration of them lives in this city. They're part of the reason I'm in Los Angeles."

I was intrigued. It was amazing, really, how quickly I forgot about the raging inferno behind me. "Um... wow. Why?"

A small smile crept across the Beckett's mouth – barely noticable, but there nonetheless. "Most likely because of the unstable political situation – no one has the time or the effort required to properly expel them. Have you experienced anything else unusual?"

I felt like I was on a shrink's chair. I let loose. "I don't know. I don't know what would be considered 'usual' around here. I've been embraced for exactly three nights, and I've already seen ghosts, psychotic barons, hideous abominations, warped blood guardian things protecting art exhibits about Lilith, and I've been attacked by Sabbat death cultists. Oh, and my sire was executed immediately after my embrace and the prince who killed her is making me work for him, blowing this place up. I suspect he's intentionally sending me into harm's way so I'll die. Any of that sound unusual to you?"

Beckett smirked. "Not particularly, aside from the Prince not simply having you killed with your sire if he wanted you dead. All the usual Jyhad nonsense I make a point to avoid."

"Jyhad?"

"In a word, politics. The mess of intrigue, lies, manipulation, assassinations, and so on that so many Kindred waste eternity with. A shame, really. There are so many better uses for unending existence – and yet so many spend all their time on the same silly games."

I couldn't help but nod. I certainly wasn't involved in this mess by choice. "I agree. This is not my idea of a good time."

"Really? And if you could be spending your nights however you pleased, what exactly would you be doing?"

I thought that over for a moment. "Studying. I'd be curled up with a book, reading on blood magic, spirits, whatever – trying to make sense of all this."

A small smile crept onto Beckett's lips. "Ah, a fellow intellectual. And, I assume, a Tremere. Interesting. Tell me, have you been brought into the clan proper? Undergone their blood ritual?"

I shook my head. "I was Kindred literally 5 seconds before I had a stake in my heart."

Beckett looked me over once again. "Well, now. It seems the most unusual thing I can see right now is you – an unbound, rogue Tremere in possession of knowledge of Thaumaturgy. While I don't know the specific details, every member of your clan drinks the blood of the clan elders right after embrace – binding them to Tremere. You're free of that bond, meaning they don't have control over you. Of course, entering the clan means you do gain access to their closely-guarded libraries. Why, I'd almost consider drinking from that cup to get a peek at some of the secrets they have locked away in their chantries – almost. I suppose you'll have to make that same decision for yourself. Still, at least you have a choice in the matter – unlike the rest of your clan."

I nodded, grateful. "Thanks for the information. It's good to have answers instead of questions once in a while."

Beckett nodded back. "Indeed. A pleasure making your acquaintance, but there are rumblings for me to discredit. We shall, I'm certain, meet again. Or never again. Goodnight, young one... and be careful. You're very likely being hunted by the Sabbat."

With that, the man turned back into a lone wolf and skulked off into the night.


	23. Chapter 22: A Drink Among Friends

**Hey everyone! Just throwing out a quick chapter here, wrapping up Lucius' night. Nothing major going on here – just some wind-down, some introspection, and a bit of calm before the raging storm continues. **

**Rednightmare – Thanks for your compliments on what I did with the thugs. I always thought their dialogue was a little gold easter egg hidden away in an unnoticed corner of the game. I really wanted to give them a bit of character – the life of a Sabbat thug has got to be interesting and tragic, not to mention quite absurd and brutal. As for Lucius – he's definitely stumbling through this blind, making up plans as he goes along. To be fair, pulling this thing off in an actual VTM game would be the equivalent of rolling 3 10s in a 5-dice pool – he may have botched a lot, but it's still amazing he came through this alive. (Oh, and yes, that is the right quote. Total firefly nerd right here – if I'm ever in charge of any group, I'm totally hanging a chain of command up above the meeting room XD) BTW, I always thought that in the game the bestial Sabbat were Tzimisce, and the human-looking ones were Lasombra. I guess I could be wrong. But yeah, comedy of errors sums this baby up nicely – except for the smoothest operator in the whole VTM world, Beckett. I tweaked a bit just to have him comment on Lucius' unique predicament – I can't imagine him not finding that a little interesting. As for Lucius' anime-style head-bump – I may delay that a little, but also make it more brutal. I have my own ideas for poor Lucius…**

**SpecialAgentOrange – Thanks for your compliments on my tweaks – pure gore is fun, but gets old after awhile. The Sabbat are pretty comical, if you look at them from a detached perspective – and if you're not actively being splattered by them. I do have to say, though, that Lucius' thoughts about joining the Sabbat were pure sarcasm – it was more him pointing out to himself that he had to kill those thugs, regardless of how he felt about them. Still, thanks so much for your compliments to the language and imagery I used – not all of it was creative, though. Let's just say I managed to injure myself recently and pulled some of that from personal experience. As for the web of politics – believe me, I'll have some fun weaving it and watching Lucius squirm under even more intense scrutiny than most Bloodlines PCs would be. For now, though, I think I'll give him a brief break.**

…

I sat on Mercurio's chair, doubled over with laughter.

"So then," Mercurio continued, "I'm trying desperately to grab the handcuff key while the broad powders her nose, hoping to god I'm not gonna end up like the dude in Fatal Attraction. I'd just seen it in theaters, too, so it was real sharp in my mind. So I manage to dislocate my arm and grab the key up, unlock the cuffs, and get the hell off the bed right when she comes back out the bathroom. So I'm standing there, naked, while she's staring at me, and I'm terrified she's about to pull a knife on me or some shit. And then, get this – she starts crying! Like, straight-up brawling there, saying she thought I wanted this, and how she was a freak and she had hoped I wouldn't judge her and stuff. So I'm trying to think real fast, and I start pulling some BS out my ass about how it's all going too fast, and I just want to take it slower and build up to that, and also I say I just gotta use the bathroom. So she calms down, sits on the bed, and I'm reassuring her, kissing her, acting all gentle and stuff. So then I go in her bathroom and – BOOM. There's her purse, key card right there in it, easy as hell. So I grab up my clothes, stuff the card in my pocket, and climb out the window and down the fire escape. Got into the building that night, grabbed the files, dropped them off, went home, packed up my shit, and moved the hell out of my apartment before that psycho showed up or called me."

I couldn't speak – I was just laughing too hard. I finally managed to catch an unnecessary breath. "Whoo – Merc, I gotta hand it to you, you've got some good stories. I could sit here and listen to you all night. Well, that and keep drinking this blood." With that, I reached over and poured myself my umpteenth glass of drunk blood that night. Mercurio had told me that I had free reign on his reserves, and I felt like I needed it after the night I'd had.

Mercurio grinned. "I'm sure the alcohol makes my stories seem a lot more entertaining than they actually are; but hey, whatever keeps a smile on your face, kid. You've earned it after the shit you pulled off."

I leaned back in the comfortable chair, sipping on the delicious, alcohol-laden vitae, as I pulled another cigarette up to my lips, lighting it, letting myself drift away on the pleasure of the sensations. I allowed my eyes to idly scan the room. The floor was covered in random debris – chemistry equipment, a half-full six-pack of Molotov cocktails, various empty wine, liquor, and morphine bottles, and blood stains over everything. We'd managed to trash the place. I was having the time of my unlife right now.

I'd come to Mercurio's directly from Tung's place – Tung had given me the number of a no-questions-asked cab service, so I didn't get hassled for my shotgun or my mutilated face. Tung had jumped in the air when I entered – I'm pretty sure he expected me to be burnt to a crisp. We'd had a brief but informative conversation, with me sharing what had gone on in the warehouse. He'd been real surprised to hear about Beckett – he was apparently a famous Kindred archeologist and historian, and if he was around, it meant there was something big going down, something worth documenting for posterity. I'd asked Tung about the clans and learned a lot – LaCroix was a typical snobby, rich, and powerful Ventrue, the Toreador were all stuck in an Anne Rice novel, the Voerman "sisters" were a great example of the insane Malkavians, the Nosferatu were hideous sneaks and spies, Nines and Jack were a typical, tough, idealistic Brujah, and Beckett was one of the solitary, non-aligned, bestial Gangrel. I finally felt like I was getting a sense of things, like I had a basic context to put all the madness around me into. He even told me about the Sabbat clans: the darkness-manipulating Lasombra and shape-shifting Tzimisce. Everything was starting to make sense, all the puzzle pieces were falling into place – except for my own clan. He had no information on them – they kept to themselves, and had a way of making anyone regret prying into their business. All he knew was that they and they alone understood blood magic, and that their powers were invaluable to the Camarilla. If I wanted to know more about them, I'd have to ask them themselves.

Beckett's warning about being bound to the clan weighed heavily on my mind as I sat in the cab on the way to Mercurio's. I'd put the concern out of my mind as I entered. Mercurio had just about leapt off the couch when he saw me – he was overjoyed to see me alive. He'd told me that I needed to go inform LaCroix about my success right away – and then I needed to sit down and get plastered with him. I'd sent out a quick email and run right back to my friend's place to unwind. We had started chugging, then once we were in a nice stupor we wound down to relaxed drinking, with me telling Merc about the warehouse and him telling me stories from New York.

I sat and contemplated my position in this world as best I was able, given my inebriated state. It occurred to me that I was an anomaly, someone that seemed to exist outside the set system of clans and organizations. I should have died off, but I'd managed to survive and prove useful and loyal – there was no way I could be snuffed out easily or quietly any more. I smiled at the thought of LaCroix cursing at the realization that I was going to be around for awhile – though I suppose he'd played his hand well, making sure that whether I failed or succeeded, he came out ahead. Regardless, I felt safe and secure for the first time since my embrace.

I raised my glass. "To surviving against impossible odds."

"I'll drink to that." We downed our glasses and fell back into our chairs. A comfortable, easy silence stretched on as jazz melodically drifted out of nearby speakers. Mercurio broke the silence. "So what are you gonna do now?"

I thought about that. "No idea, Merc. Absolutely no idea. Not much, I hope. I guess LaCroix will want me to come downtown… and there are some places I wanted to visit down there, so… downtown. Yeah, downtown. Sounds like a plan. But tonight, I'm not going anywhere. I'm done doing anything for awhile. I'm pretty much staying plastered to this chair and… staying plastered. Heh."

Mercurio nodded. "Sounds good, kid. Though, I do gotta say… if you're going to be meeting the big man himself, you might want to consider getting some better threads. I'm not gonna pry into who else you want to see downtown, but I can tell you that most of the players down there will expect you to be a bit better dressed than you are. Not trying to rag on you, just saying it like it is, kid."

I laughed. "Don't worry Merc, I know… I know how fucked up I must look. Hell, I grabbed this hoodie off some random bum, just because I was terrified that my face was gonna be on the news after that diner shootout. Still, it did help me convince those Sabbat I was one of them… but still, you have a point. And hey, Merc, for real - don't ever worry about what you say around me – I appreciate the fact that you give me accurate information. It's saved my life plenty of times. But I mean… where the hell would I get clothes at… at… what time is it, anyway?"

Mercurio checked his watch. "Two-thirty AM. And there's stores that specialize in hooking Kindred up with clothes. I mean, seriously, I'm pretty sure the Toreador would riot if there wasn't. Heh. That would be funny – a Toreador riot. At least it would be a nice change from all the Brujah riots – a lot less shit to clean up, too. Anyway, I'll give this one tailor a call tomorrow night – guy owes me a favor, actually – it's a long story. Let's just say he had a little wardrobe malfunction with the outfit of an influential Torador Baron – Abrams, the guy in charge of freaking Holywood – and I saved his ass from being blacklisted by every snobby-ass poseur in town. He'll hook you up with a suit. Oh, and get this – I'll make sure you've got some straps on the inside of your jacket to hang weapons from – you can look classy and carry an arsenal. They say the clothes make the man – well, the clothes also determine what you can carry unseen on you, which can decide whether you'll keep being a man or end up a pile of ash."

I gave Mercurio a big grin. "For real, Merc, I'd already be a pile of ash if not for you. Thanks, man. You've really hooked me up, here. I won't forget any of this, I promise."

Merc gave me a wistful look. "You're alright, kid. It's been a long, long time since I met a vamp as on-the-level as you. I hope you don't forget, kid. Cause I can see you going places – as long as you don't end up dead on the way up. I'll do what I can to hook you up – though I can't break any Cam rules, just… bend a few. But for real, kid – you think you'll still remember a washed-up old ghoul like me a decade from now, when you've got money and power and ghouls of your own? Cause I'll tell ya – it's nothing against you or any Kindred, I've just seen how quickly you types change. It's just the way of things, ya know? I mean, I'm just saying, I'd understand if ya moved on as ya moved up. I'm happy enough just to have you cover my ass for my fuckup with Dennis."

I stopped and thought for a moment as I took a drink. I made a decision then and there – that my friendship with Mercurio was a key piece of my humanity, that I needed to hold onto this to hold onto the Luke I had once been. The juxtaposition between the brutality at the warehouse and the joviality here told me how precariously I was holding onto the human I once was. "Mecurio, I've known you since the night I was embraced. You're the only person I can call a friend – the only one I can trust. I swear, the only way I'm leaving you behind is if I turn to dust. Here's to us man – watching each other's backs until we die or the world ends."

With that, Mercurio raised his glass and we toasted to our friendship. Then we drank until we passed out, right before the sun rose.


	24. Chapter 23: The Citadel

**Hey everyone! Gonna be quick here – gotta post this and run. However, thanks for all reviews, and I hope you all enjoy our fourth night with Lucius. Oh, and sorry to disappoint, Rednightmare – no anime-style lump for Lucius in this chapter – but don't worry, it will happen, and he will suffer. **

I woke up passed out on Mercurio's Laz-e-boy chair, barely able to remember where I was or what I had done last night.

As I looked around the room, blinking away the sleep of oblivion from my eyes, I tried to make sense of my surroundings through a pounding headache. _Goddamnit, I hoped being a Kindred meant no more hangovers… ugh._ I looked over to my left. There was a shotgun on the table, next to an empty bottle of blood and a half-full wine glass. _What the… where did… oh yeah… I grabbed it from some Sabbat thug before I blew up the docks… My god, did I really blow those up? That was probably on the news. Ugh. Gotta get some water and blood in me. Where's Mercurio? _That's when I noticed that he was absent from his couch. I began worrying – after all, it's not like he could have got up and moved around on his own. I peeled myself from my seat and began figuring out what I was going to do. I heard voices from the kitchen and recognized one of them as my friend's. With a sigh of relief, I followed the sounds.

"-need to make sure everything appears normal to outside observers. The service entrance is probably the best option." An unfamiliar voice was speaking when I entered Mercurio's kitchen. I saw Merc, laid out on a stretcher, glass still in hand, morphine bottle still next to him on his new resting place. A man who looked to be about as old as me, in his early to mid thirties, dressed in a very sharp Armani pinstripe suit, with bored but observant eyes, was standing at the head of the stretcher, holding onto a handle used to push the mobile bed around.

They both looked up as I entered the room. Mercurio was the first one to speak. "Lucius! Glad to see you're up. This is my, uh, business associate, Chris Bensen. He's here to make sure I get downtown to meet up with LaCroix and get my blood fix so I can be useful again. Anyway, how you feeling, kid?"

I let out a small groan. "Good – aside from this headache. I could use some water and some blood. It's strange, though – I wouldn't think Kindred would get hangovers. They're caused by water loss and the metabolic process of breaking down alcohol, so… seems like I shouldn't have to deal with this. Anyway, can I grab a blood bottle?" Mercurio nodded, gesturing over to an already-open bottle by the sink. I headed over to the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, downing the liquid, and then opening up the blood bottle and pouring myself some breakfast.

As I went through this, Mercurio's business associate provided me with a bit of education. "You are correct, in that the metabolic processes that normally cause a hangover do not occur in the bloodstream of Kindred. However, when you drink the blood of an inebriated individual, you don't just absorb the alcohol content in their vitae – you absorb the experience of drunkenness, which includes the post-celebration head pain."

I nodded in acknowledgment as I downed my first vitae of the night. _Good to know. When you absorb a substance through the blood, you get the full experience. I imagine that it somehow it connects to the energy I absorb through the blood, the energy Serena referred to – and the way that experiences and memories come through the act of feeding. If only I had a better understanding of it all… if only I could __access those libraries that Tremere has… well, then again, I should be going downtown today… and that riddle in my apartment referenced Tremere… could that be my clan's attempt at contacting me? I have to know. _ I finished my glass and joined the conversation. "Good to know. So what's the plan for today? I assume the two of us are going downtown to meet LaCroix."

Bensen nodded. "That's correct. I've been sent to provide transportation for Mercurio. As I was telling him, we're going to use the service entrance to avoid the spectacle of having a man in a stretcher coming in through the lobby of a prominent financial management corporation's headquarters. You, however, will be taking a separate vehicle – specifically, the cab service that the Camarilla has generously provided to all law-abiding Kindred in the city free of charge. Mercurio tells me that you've already obtained their contact information." I nodded. "Very well, then. I'd recommend that you head down to the tailor friend of Mercurio's, get properly attired, and then go downtown. I assume LaCroix has emailed you the address of his office."

Mercurio stirred on the stretcher. "And here – this is the card for the tailor I know. Don't worry, I already made some calls, you're expected. Just go to the door in the back, down the alley on the left side. Just knock and say Mercurio sent you. He'll set you up with a new outfit – don't bother opening your wallet. I told you I'd hook you up."

I beamed a smile at Mercurio as I took the card. I felt very much 'in the loop' now – I no longer had immediate death hanging over me, and now I had contacts and friends I could talk to. I felt like I was a part of this nocturnal world, instead of just prowling around it, trying to survive. "Thanks again, Mercurio. I'll tell you what – I'm going back to my place to take a shower and check on any emails I might have got from LaCroix, then I'm calling the cab up and paying this tailor a visit. You get down there as soon as you can – you need to get fixed up as soon as possible. I'll see you there, Mercruio."

Mercurio smiled back. "I dunno if I'll see you at the headquarters – LaCroix is probably going to have me fill out some paperwork once I get my blood, I might be stuck behind a desk for a while. Just go meet with the big man, and be sure to let him know how hard I worked to help you out." He gave me a meaningful nod that reminded me of my promise to keep quiet about his screw up with Dennis. The thought of telling LaCroix about that hadn't even entered my mind. Mercurio was my friend – I'd cover for him even if it wasn't LaCroix I was lying to. As it was, I was about as interested in being a tattletale to LaCroix as I was interested in pissing him off.

"Of course, Merc. Anyway, I've gotta go get cleaned up. I'll see you two around." Mercurio smiled and waved, while Bensen simply nodded at me. I downed a final glass of vitae, and then turned around and headed out.

I gathered all the chemistry equipment in my backpack, the one that had until recently contained the astrolite. I made an effort to clean up a little, gathering all the bottles into a pile near the couch. _At least now the stretcher won't get caught up on them. Better than nothing._ I looked around, making sure I wasn't forgetting anything. I noticed the shotgun next to the half-full glass of drunk blood. I picked up the weapon, figuring that I lived close enough that I could make it to my haven without attracting too much attention. I looked at the glass for a moment. While I didn't want to be intoxicated any longer, I was still hungry… and they did say that the hair of the dog that bit you was the best hangover cure. I grabbed the glass and downed it. I took one final look around Mercurio's apartment, then headed out the door.

...

I made it to my haven without incident, though one man on the street did give me a strange look for wandering around in a filthy hoodie while carrying a shotgun. Once inside my familiar home, I bolted the door, dropped the shotgun under the bed, and fell down into my chair by the desk. I figured I ought to check my email as soon as possible – LaCroix could have sent me an email last night, demanding an immediate response, and I should probably get back to him as soon as possible. That being said, I very much doubted that he could have me killed for not sending back an email promptly – not after the task I managed to perform for him.

Plenty of spam in my inbox – only two emails worth checking out. The one from LaCroix was not as grateful as I thought he should be – he even managed to throw a threat in there.

"I would like to congratulate you on your successful completion of the assigned task. I knew that I was not committing an error when I invested my trust in you. I should like to meet with you in person at my office – the address is included at the end of this email. Please be there at 11:30 PM sharp. The man at the front desk will let you up, as he has been given your name and appointment time. I hope you recognize to what extent you are being honored with an in-person meeting with me at such a young age – it is both a testament to your capabilities, and a generous offer that you should not insult by being late. I look forward to meeting with you tomorrow night.

-SL"

_Okay. It's 9:30 right now. Got plenty of time to get there. Best to show up early, just in case. Time to hit the shower – after I call the cab._ I dialed the number on the prepaid burner Mercurio had got me and told them to be outside my building in 20 minutes. Then I finished checking my email and found only one more worth noticing.

From: A Friend

Subject: The first move

"The white king moves to protect his pawn."

_Who is this? What does it mean? Should I understand this? Could this be... clan Tremere? _I looked over at the riddle.

"At your convenience, please come visit me in my home downtown. I leave this to guide you.

Dark blood, our curse, alight this verse.

Such power I sense in one so young.

Come find me where burns the mystical sun.

M. Strauss, Tremere Regent"

I grabbed the piece of paper and carefully folded it into my pocket. I was determined to find my clan. It was my primary goal – LaCroix was just the obnoxious intermediary I had to go through to find them. My sire had told me answers lay with them. I didn't know if I wanted to join them – but I did know I wanted to know what they were about. I did know I needed to meet them. With that, I hopped in the shower.

By the time my cleansing ritual was completed, my headache was gone. I dressed and felt ready to take on the night – after all, I'd already dealt with the warehouse... what could be worse than that? I headed downstairs to the waiting cab.

The cabbie looked up at me. "You Lucius?" I nodded. "Where to?" I gave him the address Bensen had given me. "Alright. Get in. I'll have you there in no time."

I looked up. A particularly scrumptious-looking whore was leaning, hand on hip, across the street. I recognized her – Sherry's friend, Cindy. I licked my lips. "Hold on just a minute – I need to grab a quick bite to eat, first."

… …

Soon, we had pulled up to a very upscale and very closed clothing shop. While we weren't in downtown LA proper, we were close enough that things were starting to look expensive – in other words, we were in parts of the city where I had never bothered shopping – my salary had been small enough without needing to spend money on superfluous things. I knew I'd stick out like a sore thumb, ratty as I was, but that didn't matter – as long as Mercurio called ahead, I'd be fine. "Wait here, I'll be out soon," I instructed the driver. He simply nodded as I got out.

I snuck away from the clean elegance of the storefront into a dingy alleyway to the side of the edifice that suited my look a good deal more. As I passed various debris and trashcans, I couldn't help but wonder how many respectable-looking storefronts had side entrances like this one, dark and dingy locations that only those that prowled the night were aware of. I found a nondescript metal door with a view slider built in. I knocked loudly.

After a minute, the slider opened up, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes. "Who is it?"

"I'm Lucius. Mercurio's friend." The person looked me over before closing the slider and opening the door. On the other side of the door was a man dressed in neat white shirt, dark pants with suspenders, a black bow-tie, and well-polished shoes. He stood there a moment, eying me up and down, a dismissive smirk on his face. His hair was thin and combed-over, his face was old and wrinkled, his mouth was done in a perpetual scowl, and his beady eyes stared derisively out at the world.

"This way." He gestured me inside. As soon as I stepped in, he closed, locked, and bolted the door behind us. He began walking back through what seemed to be a storage area, with various mannequin parts, items of clothing, cloth, and sewing machines scattered around various tables and on the floor. I followed him until we moved through another door. We now entered the store proper – there were various suits, polo shirts, and high-end clothing hung up on all the walls – the sort of outfits I might buy one of, in case I needed something to wear to a formal corporate event or something. I felt a little intimidated by the luxury, truth be told. I followed the man until we reached a small, cleared area with chairs around the edge, where we stopped.

The man turned and simply said, "Take off your hoodie and extend your arms. I need to take your measurements." I complied, though I made sure to be gentle with the hoodie – there was a gun in there, after all, and I didn't need it going off. The man quickly and quietly began measuring my arms, my legs, my torso, everything. I simply stood there and waited as the man wrote down all the relevant information in a small notebook he kept in his pocket. After a few minutes, he stopped measuring and looked over the notebook for a few moments. He looked up at me. "You want to have a means of concealing weapons on your person, correct?" I nodded. He looked back down at the notebook, then moved to a back room.

He came back and gave me various pieces of clothing. "If I may make a suggestion, I'd say you should keep your jeans on beneath dress pants to deflect blows. It will also allow you to hang your knife without having a suspicious leather strap visible. Simply use a belt to secure both your dress pants and the jeans. Discard the sweatpants." I nodded and complied – everything the man said made sense. I found a grey pair of pants that fit comfortably over my jeans. Soon I was dressed in a nice white shirt and was trying on ties. I couldn't really decide on which tie to get

"Um...just get me something... red."

The man smirked. "Typical," he mumbled under his breath as he walked into a nearby room. He returned with a blood-red tie. I looked at myself in a mirror. I thought I looked professional. I thought I looked pleasant. I smiled and nodded at the tailor.

He left and came back with a grey coat. "This should serve your needs. Put it on."

It fit well. I felt comfortable. "So how does this work? What does this coat have?"

"Open the jacket." I complied. "Notice the straps and pockets. There is a special setup for a handgun. Place it in there." The gun fit well, as did the extra clip. I could easily access the gun if I needed it. I smiled at the man. He barely nodded back. "Attach your knife to the jeans, under the pants, unobserved. There are various loops and pockets for hanging and storing things." I stored my tire iron, lockpicking kit, and other stuff in various pockets. "Now you can stay prepared in style. You're prepared for downtown..." He turned his head. "...barely," he whispered.

I looked at him quizzically. "What's your name, again?"

The tailor eyed me sideways. "Rubricks Baker. Don't mention my name. This should prove sufficient for now. If you need repairs, come back. Those will cost – only the initial outfit is free. I hope you understand how generous this is." I nodded emphatically. I wanted to build a relationship with this man – I could tell he would be useful.

"I promise I'll take care of this suit – and I'll repay you eventually."

Baker rolled his eyes. "Just don't make a fool of yourself in front of the Prince or anyone important while wearing this outfit."

… … …

The cab pulled up in the middle of downtown LA next to a massive skyscraper. I got out and gawked – the place was absurd. Great gargoyle-like statues extended massive, elongated arms into the sky, like otherworldly spirits trying to rise from the ground up to heaven. Immense windows towered over the street below. A great fluorescent needle towered into the sky, touching the stars. I looked back down to the human level. Large, ornate doors loomed before me. I moved forward, swallowed, and stepped through.

Inside, everything was sterile and regular. A security station was all that was before me – the only way in was through airport-style scanners and metal detectors on either side. The word "LaCroix" was installed in blue neon behind the security desk in what no doubt was supposed to be a classy and artistic cursive-like script, just in case you forgot whose domain you were in. With no other option, I approached the desk and announced myself to the overweight security guard standing watch.

"Um... Hello. My name is Lucius. I, uh, have an appointment with LaCroix at 11:30."

The portly man looked up at me with friendly, surprised, and cow-like eyes. This was a man who'd endured no hardship, who projected friendliness for no reason other than because he wanted to. Once upon a time I would have been impressed by such resilience. Now, after everything I'd seen and done, as I was waiting anxiously to see LaCroix and figure out what my place in this world is going to be, I just found him annoying.

"Oh, hello there! Sorry, didn't see you come in – too busy checking security footage, here." I smiled at the man's incompetence. _This is the best LaCroix can do? I might want to rethink my whole "suck up to LaCroix to avoid being killed" strategy. _He mistook my smile as friendliness. "Name's Chunk – officer Chunk. Head of security here at LaCroix towers!"

_Clearly he's just the public face – I'm sure someone far more qualified is handling actual security._ "Nice to meet you, Officer Chunk. As I said, my name's Lucius. I'm here to see Mr. LaCroix in his office – I have an appointment at 11:30." I hoped this time he'd skip the chatter and let me in. No such luck.

"Would that be Sebastian LaCroix of the LaCroix foundation, or Dwayne LaCroix of the insurrection baby formula company?"

"Huh?" I'd dealt with too much confusing nonsense lately to notice the joke.

"Just pulling your leg! Um, hold on, let me just check here... ah! Yep, there you are, right at 11:30. Of course, it's only fiften after 11 o'clock. Now, I'm sure Mr. LaCroix appreciates you arriving early – in fact, I know he does. Not much upsets the big boss more than people being late to appointments, let me tell you. I've even heard of senior company execs being fired just more making him wait! Anyway, his schedule here says he's busy until 11:25, so it's probably best if you pull up a chair and chat for a bit."

I sighed. He was right, of course, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to spending time engaged in inane banter with the man. _Ah well. Nothing to be done for it._ With a sigh, I settled myself down in a nearby chair and situated myself comfortably. "Thanks. Just be sure to let him know I'm here as soon as possible."

"No problem, chief! I'll send his secretary a memo right now! So, uh, late night at the office tonight, huh?"

_Great... idle, inquisitive banter. Now I have to make up some bullshit and remember what I told this guy later._ "Um... yeah. I handle accounts in east Asia, so I have to be up when it's day for them."

"Oh, yeah of course. I always forget how big a company LaCroix Enterprises is, having branches all over the world. I can't really believe it sometimes, how big and connected it all is. I'm just glad I can be a small part of this big old family. Yessir."

I wasn't sure whether I was laughing or groaning more inside. It seemed absurd to me that anyone could be this genuine, this innocent, this... oblivious. _Whatever. He's not a threat, and that's all that really matters._ "Yeah... it's kind of amazing, how far it all extends. Honestly, I don't know much about LaCroix enterprise's operations beyond my field of specialty. I wish I did."

"Well, I don't know about much beyond this little lobby here, but I can tell you that this company is always busy. It can be 4 am and there's still important looking people coming and going. A lot of 'em are dressed real strange, must be from foreign parts. It's a global company I guess. I swear though, it's as though LaCroix never sleeps!"

_Yeah... I can see why they hired this oblivious idiot to work the front desk. You've gotta be pretty thick to not notice how weird the traffic coming and going is._ "Yep. Globalization at work an all that. LaCroix is a real type-A personality, always working, living on coffee, packed schedule – the typical corporate go-getter. He's a large part of why the company is so successful."

Chunk nodded knowingly. "I tell 'ya, for someone so young he's got a real good head on those shoulders, Mr. LaCroix does. I know for the life of me I couldn't have handled all this work and paperwork and such at that age – heck, I wouldn't have a chance now! But, I guess that's why he's in charge of things and I'm down here at the desk. And you know what? I'm happy with that. I'm sure he's happy up there in the top office, and I'm plenty happy down here, keeping everyone safe."

I found his contentedness to be refreshing. Here was someone with no ambitions, no goal – he was content where he was, doing what he was assigned. I had to reevaluate this man – perhaps his stupidity and obliviousness were simply means by which he achieved this happiness – after all, if he was paying attention, he'd probably be out a job – or dead. In the end, he'd found a niche, and was willing to settle comfortably into it. _If only that was an option for me. If only I had some position, some job, some home I could call mine and be happy with. I mean... I'd still be inquisitive, I'd still demand answers. I'd never be that content. But a bit more stability would be nice._ I pulled from my introspection. "Yeah, we all have our parts to play. And right now, my part is delivering this report on Vietnamese market fluctuations to Mr. LaCroix so he can keep us all employed and happy. What time is it?"

"Oh, geeze! I almost lost track of time. It's... 11:25 exactly. I'll buzz you up. Head over to the elevators – LaCroix's office is on the top floor. You, uh, have a nice power meeting, or whatever it is you types do up there. If you need any security, why just ring the front desk and ask for me, Officer Chunk. Nice talking with you, uh... Lucas, was it?"

"Um... Yeah, sure. Thanks for keeping me entertained, Chunk. Have a good night."

... ... ... ...

The elevator doors opened before me. I walked out into decadence made solid. Gold plated everything. The walls and ceilings were adorned like something out of a renaissance cathedral – there were paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum, set in an environment so ornate it was disorienting. Directly ahead, next to a plain wooden desk at the end of this hallway of opulence, stood the prince of Los Angeles. He cut a lonely figure against the clear skyline beyond – for that was all there was beyond him, simply an immense window overlooking the city – overlooking his domain. There was only one other person in the room – the towering figure of an inhuman giant, immense sword strapped to his back. He stared at the elevator doors blankly. LaCroix stared out at the skyline, not even acknowledging my presence by turning around.

I walked forward slowly, quietly, cautiously. I wasn't sure what was expected – I just went with it. I found myself in question once again of the steps that had led me to this path, of whether I should be here at all, acknowledging this man who clearly either wanted me dead or else was unaware of how hard it was to fight Sabbat on the ground, having observed the battles from above for so long. _Still... I've done what was asked of me. I should collect some kind of reward. Some money, some blood... something._

I reached the table. LaCroix didn't move an inch, refusing to acknowledge my presence. The giant continued staring directly at me, looming down over me. I cleared my throat. "Hello, Prince LaCroix."

LaCroix turned to me, fully addressing me, as though he only just noticed I was here. "Welcome, Lucius, Childe of Serena." He gestured outwards, arms enveloping the scene in full. "Welcome to my office. I must say, I am honored to have one who has accomplished so much as such a young age be under my command at this fascinating time in history. I'm sure you agree, no?" I nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to – that LaCroix should be honored, or that I should be under his command. "Come," he gestured me forward. I followed. "Look out at the view. I'm given to understand you are a native of this city – you and your family have lived here your entire life, correct?" I confirmed with a nod. "Well, I think it's fitting then that you should be privilege to such a view – to finally have a chance, after your death, to look down upon the great concrete castle that has been your residence while you lived. Here, at long last, you stand upon the highest precipice – the tallest citadel in the City of Angels."

I looked down at the winding streets below, in which I had spent the vast majority of my life, stuck in traffic, slowly dying instead of living.

I saw the endless streams of identical office buildings stretching off, where so many people spent so much of their time slaving away to enrich their supernatural masters – to keep money and blood flowing in copious amounts to the right accounts.

I saw Hollywood in all its gaudy splendor, screaming out at the night sky with multifaceted light pollution.

I saw the darkness, the places where there were no lights, and I wondered what prowled in those lonely corners, what manner of creatures skulked around down there and tore pieces of the lights out when they felt like it. I knew that it was what went on in those dark corners that really decided who was in charge of what, what lights stayed on and what neighborhoods fell into disrepair. A whole conflict was raging behind the scenes of a city that already appeared crazy enough on the surface – and only got worse the deeper you dug in.

I looked down at the city, and then I looked at the man in the suit next to me that considered this all his domain, that thought the millions of lives in this city were his personal property, his personal food source. I looked over at the behemoth that acted as his muscle, enforcing his will. I realized I was at the intersection of a lot of power, a lot of influence. I realized that from this vantage point, one could easily delude oneself into thinking they ran this city – and I was starting to get the feeling that anyone that thought they could manage this madness was themselves insane.

I knew I needed to compliment this, to thank the pompous fool somehow for the opportunity to be up here with him, enjoying the sights. Still, I couldn't help but throw a bit of snark in there. "I'd call the view breathtaking – if I had any air left to lose."

A shadow of a smirk worked its way onto LaCroix's face. "Amusing, Mr. Davidson."

That threw me back. My last name was something I'd felt no connection to since my parents died and left me alone – just something I had to fill out on insurance papers. So why did the mention of it strike me so? _Because it's a reminder of my mortality, of my young age, of weakness. It's LaCroix's way of telling me that he knows everything about me – that I'm his pawn. Well, I won't let that work. I am a Kindred, of the clan Tremere – sort of – and the Childe of Serena. That name means nothing to me now._ "Sorry, I was under the impression that upon my embrace my old name was discarded."

LaCroix looked over to me. "Do you wish do discard the name of your family?"

I looked at him squarely in the eye. "That name means nothing to me. Could I take Serena's last name, instead?"

LaCroix narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "You may, though you should have requested such in your email. Do you know what her surname was?"

I lowered my eyes in shame. "She was taken from me before she revealed that information to me."

"Hm... yes. Unfortunate, that you should be made to suffer for her mistakes. That is why I spared you. That is why I gave you the opportunity to prove yourself. I had no doubt you'd prove my decision a prudent one. You must understand, many in the Camarilla called for your death, as per the traditions. You are aware of the traditions, no?"

I nodded. "I understand that siring without the permission of one's elder is considered ground for execution of both childe and sire." Note that I did not say permission of one's prince – I don't know why not. It was as though some delicate point was being made through me, as though I was being subtly influenced.

"Indeed. But after performing this task, none can doubt your usefulness and loyalty to the Camarilla. So, you see fledgling, while you no doubt irk under the responsibility placed upon you, in fact this was the only way in which you could find acceptance among Kindred society. Better to suffer greatly at the start of one's new existence than to spend eternity in the contempt of one's peers, no?"

I nodded. His words made sense; although... I knew there was more behind them. I made myself think back to my sire. I knew this creature was conniving, that at his heart he was dark. _He killed Serena... and he smiled right before her execution. Trust nothing this snake speaks to you. _"And now that I've accomplished this task for you and proven my loyalty to the Camarilla, what do you intend to do with me? I assume I'm not expected to continue putting myself in extreme danger, blowing up Sabbat warehouse after Sabbat warehouse."

That comment brought a snarky smile to LaCroix's lips. He moved over to his desk and sat, gesturing for me to sit on a chair in front of the desk. I complied. "No, most certainly not, though such acts would be appreciated by all in the Camarilla. No, while I will continue to make use of your ample talents, rest assured that your existence will not be endangered again as it was in Santa Monica. For now, I'm granting you the opportunity to rest. You are placed under no obligation for the remainder of the night. And you will be properly rewarded for your services to your fellow Kindred. You've done quite well, all things considered. Most Kindred in your... position would not have done nearly so well. You may prove to be a genuine asset. It's a bit disturbing, the lack of talent in this organization as of late. I may need you to do a bit of reconnaissance for me soon – but for now, you've earned your rest. However, before you are dismissed, I would like to discuss the particulars of your task. I trust you encountered no... impediments to your progress on account of my personnel?"

_This is where I repay Mercurio. _"Definitely not. Mercurio was extremely helpful – he provided me with all the equipment and information I needed. He kept working diligently even after being injured. Honestly, if not for his advice and assistance, there's no way I would have completed the task. He not only helped me prepare for the encounter with the Sabbat, he also helped me deal with the political mess with Therese, Jeanette, and Tung."

LaCroix laughed. "Ah, yes. A taste of things to come, I'm afraid. Tell me, is Jeanette dead or simply incapacitated?"

_And now to cover for Therese._ "Incapacitated. She was the source of all the problems – the feud between Tung and Therese, my own troubles, all of it. In the end, Therese realized that her sister and Childe was the source off all the chaos in Santa Monica and did what was necessary to keep things from falling apart. Honestly, Santa Monica will be a far more stable place without Jeanette being active there."

"Indeed. With the Sabbat warehouse eliminated, and Jeanette removed from the situation, there is a great opportunity for the Camarilla to move into Santa Monica and begin improving the area. All it would take is the proper investment in property development, and very soon the area will be gentrified, ordered, and profitable."

I couldn't pass up an opportunity to throw a snarky comment his way. "So there will be more apartments like Mercurio's, and less like my haven?"

He was not amused. "I do hope you appreciate how difficult it was to obtain a haven properly insulated against sunlight on such short notice. Quite honestly, most Kindred in your situation are fortunate to survive their first sunrise."

_Time to backpedal._ "I assure you, my Prince, that I was not complaining about my lodgings – simply commenting on the way that Camarilla presence in Santa Monica will improve things for those living there, Kindred or human."

"Indeed. If you desire lodgings that allow a higher standard of living, there is a vacant apartment here in downtown Los Angeles that you could be moved into. Normally a residence of this quality would be reserved only for long-time Camarilla agents, but for the valuable service you have performed for the Kindred of this city – and for your continued service to the Camarilla – I believe an exception could be made."

_Hm... a tempting offer... and one I probably shouldn't take up. That basically locks me in to a long-term agreement to serve LaCroix. Not to mention the fact that he could bug the place... no, it's probably better if I stay under the radar, in a part of the city where he doesn't have that much control – even if the Camarilla do move into Santa Monica, it will be through Therese. And while I don't exactly feel that comfortable with the idea of Therese monitoring me, it certainly makes me less uncomfortable that having LaCroix watching me all the time. No, I need money._ "I thank you for your offer, but in all honesty, I've become quite familiar with Santa Monica. I know where to go for easy access to blood, I have employment opportunities. I'd rather stay there and wait for the Camarilla to come in and improve the lodging situation. So, I look forward with great anticipation to the Camarilla extending its influence to that part of Los Angeles – and I hope I can help the Camarilla extend its influence further. However, any reward you feel like giving me for my services would be greatly appreciated – I'm afraid I've been so focused on the Camarilla's work I've had no time to obtain financial resources for myself, and am quite broke at the moment."

I could see he was displeased with my decision. "Very well. Go speak with my secretary, Joelle. She's down on the first floor at the moment, in an office behind the first door on the right as you exit the elevator. She'll make sure you're properly rewarded for your efforts. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other business to attend to."

"Of course – I don't want to take up any more of your valuable time than I must. When you need me to perform that reconnaissance for you, just contact Mercurio. He'll make sure I know as soon as possible."

"Mercurio is a busy man, and cannot act as a messenger. I suggest you check your email as often as possible – it's my preferred means of communication. Oh, and one final thing. While you are free to spend your time tonight however you please, I would recommend you pay a visit to Nines Rodriguez at the Last Round bar. He's the individual who insisted on disrupting the meeting at the theater – though I assure you, he was far more interested in being a thorn in my side than he was in your well-being. You should go humor the by-the-numbers rhetoric he's so desperate to spew. Oh please, before the chants of 'fascist oppressor' from that dive of theirs clog the air and choke the local kine."

_Last Round... wait a second, Jack said he'd be there! I'm definitely paying them a visit... after I find my clan and this Kindred named Strauss who left me the riddle._ "Whatever you desire, Prince LaCroix."

With that, LaCroix turned to papers on his desk, all but dismissing me. Relieved that the necessary but unpleasant meeting was done, I turned and walked back to the elevators, glad to be gone from the stifling decadence and arrogance of the citadel of the Prince of LA.


	25. Chapter 24: Never Break the Chain

**Hello hello loyal readers. This chapter is long, dense, and full of juicy plot points, cannon, and backstory revelations. And we also have our first tense change in all of Bitter Escape! **

**Ash. J. Silver – Thanks! I'm always glad to see new readers who like my work. I promise this will keep coming for quite some time – though I can't make any promises about how often I update – life can get crazy sometimes... or all the time...**

**Flying Frog – Chunk is an awesome Bloodlines gem. I'm going to try and do some funny things with him later – but yeah, he's definitely settled in that security niche snugly – or maybe he's just too fat to get out of it XD. And I totally agree with you – Strauss is definitely my favorite character in the game, right behind Jack. Sorry, Beckett – as cool as you are, those two have got it going on. You can take the bronze medal.**

**Special Agent Orange – You're going to smile when you see the end of this chapter. And if you've been wearing a tinfoil hat so far, you're probably going to make yourself a tinfoil suit after you're done reading XD. LaCroix is trying some basic tricks here – keep in mind, he doesn't expect Lucius to be even aware that he's trying to have him killed yet – it's not something that's brought up until you talk to Nines in the game. No one knows that Lucius' sire is guiding him. Trust me, LaCroix has much better tricks up his sleeve. In fact, there's probably one right around the corner... As for the Beast going away, keep in mind that Lucius has been keeping himself well-fed lately. The Beast will come back, and it will probably be at the worst possible time for poor Lucius... Oh, and as for partying with the Anarchs – I know I'd be down, personally, but I don't know if that's Lucius' cup of tea – then again, being forced to do it would make him delightfully uncomfortable... hehehe, don't give me ideas, here. Thanks so much for your praise of my work – it's the appreciation of readers like you that makes writing this worthwhile.**

**Rednightmare – I'm glad you like what I'm doing with Mercurio – I always felt like the relationship between him and the PC could have been more developed and interesting. I can assure you that he will be playing a major role in Lucius' unlife from here on out. As for Lucius' attitude and his connection to his humanity – let's see how that plays out. Lucius' lump will be coming shortly – and by "lump," I mean "horrible, gore-filled torture at the hands of Sabbat madmen." As for Strauss' rhyming skills – I imagine he's got better things to do than write poetry. He probably whipped it out in like 5 seconds or something. Seriously, Kindred need to get over red in their decorations. Did you notice the way that Strauss and Abrams both had that same blood-red wallpaper? I could see why Strauss would have it – may have been in fashion back in the 1800s, when they decorated the Chantry – but Abrams? Seriously man, get with the times! Or maybe he's going for an ironic-retro kind of look. Speaking of things in poor taste, I found the neon sign with LaCroix's name to just plain be ridiculous – seriously, the whole tower is pure gaudy from top to bottom. Okay, enough talk about interior decorations, I'm starting to sound like a Toreador. Lucius is very aware of how delicate his position is, and you better believe he was doing nothing but practicing his lines on the ride over. I wouldn't call it out of character, so much as Lucius putting on an act. And yeah – you caught me – I totally stole Joelle from BB. I mean... let's call this paying tribute to my influences. Yeah, that sounds way more respectable. _ Speaking of stealing from your story, I almost want to write out how the Nocturne theater mess would have gone if his sire was _that_ Serena – 100% pure awkward, plus I'm sure Nines wouldn't have bothered interrupting – never stop your enemy when they're making a mistake. All in all, a dramatic, awkward, bloody family murderfest. And on that note, let's get this started!**

.

I wandered.

I wandered around downtown Los Angeles, with no idea where to go, or even what I was looking for. But I knew I needed to find my clan.

At first it was all a brightly-lit daze, with no sense of direction. A sign on a bus stop caught my eye - "The Reconing. Coming Soon." It looked like an advertisement for some movie, but still..." I looked at the bus map. I tried to orient myself. _Where burns the mystical sun... Where it rises? East, maybe?_

I walked east, heading towards what the sign said should be a hospital – only to find it was now a pile of demolished ruins surrounded by fences with very serious-looking warning signs on them. I turned to continue down the street. That's when I saw them – the CDC suits.

The people were just standing there, holding some kind of sensor up into the air. I stopped and stared at them for a moment. I couldn't see where they were looking – their eyes were hidden behind tinted plastic visors built into their airtight plastic suits. I moved moved past them, desperate to show nothing unusual in the way I was acting. I held my breath in fear. Then I realized I wasn't breathing at all. I made a conscious effort to breathe, only to start almost hyperventilating in compensation. I passed out of sight of the uncomfortably aware observers and almost collapsed in relief. _That was really weird. What the hell is going on around here?_

I moved quickly into a back alley, desperate to be away from the streets and more possible CDC agents – I got the feeling they somehow knew I was a walking corpse, or at least that something was medically wrong with me. I looked over at a dumpster, only to see a very sick woman, dressed in rags, sitting wearily next to it. I carefully skulked past, trying to avoid her notice. She was delirious and saw nothing. I walked down the alley further, having no real idea where I was going – I just wanted to get away.

I finally met a friendly face in the form of a firm, attractive hooker. She looked like she was full of delicious blood – and I'd been blasting adrenaline and Auspex in fear ever since I'd seen the CDC units. _I could use a drink to calm my nerves and fill me up_. "Hey honey. What brings you down this dark alley?" I was about to pull out my wallet when I noticed the sunken eyes, the pupils dilated like saucers, the subtle but uncontrollable shaking of the left arm... all things that would have slipped my notice if not for my supernatural Auspexial observational capabilities. _Could just be the effect of drugs... or the addiction to a drug... or it could be..._ I put two and two together. People were sick. Seriously sick. I figured that Kindred were immune to disease, but... I didn't know anything for sure. With a shake of my head, I all but bolted out of the alley.

I walked down the street, trying to find a safe place. A church came into view – gothic and grand, it evoked images of sanctuary in my mind. Then I heard the pounding beats blasting out from its buttressed walls. _Is that... a club?_ One look at the crowd inside gates that led to a confined yard next to the former cathedral confirmed my suspicions. However, the crowd inside wasn't just well-dressed and young... they were healthy. I quickly saw why. Two large bouncers were yelling with a girl dressed in a miniskirt and silver tube top. I'm sure she once looked quite pretty – before she had to cake on makeup to cover up her sunken sockets, her yellow complexion, before she started shaking so very much and seeming to stare out with wide, crazy eyes that were filled with saucer pupils. The bouncers had made it clear she wasn't getting in, and when, crying, she demanded why, they simply told her it was for health reasons. "But I'm not sick! I feel fine!" They were having none of it. I also noticed that they were wearing SARS style masks and rubber gloves.

After the girl left, brawling, I decided to try and get in. _After all, at least I know there's healthy feeding in there._ I approached the massive human towers of muscle. _Okay... even breathing, stay in the bubble... god, I wish I could make myself look less pale... approach calmly. _"Hi. What's the cover charge to get in?"

They stared at me from behind dark glasses for a few seconds, before calmly answering "Forty dollars."

_Geeze... well, LaCroix did hook me up. I should also bribe them to keep them from checking ID._ I pulled out three twenties and handed them over. "Keep up the good work. Not too many places in the city you can go any more to avoid... those types." With a nod, I was admitted in.

The group inside was a mix of young and hot mingling with older and well dressed. A lot of people were pale or dressed in goth outfits. A lot of people seemed nervous. I fit in well enough. I took out a cig to calm my nerves and give me a chance to look around. I sat outside the ornate doors, a bit overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. _I wasn't too far off when I thought of taking refuge here. Glad that Jack told me that crosses and holy symbols can't hurt me or I'd be almost afraid to go inside. Ironic, considering that if this was still a church and not a club, it would probably be packed with the sick._ I noticed a lone guy taking a piss behind a dumpster and licked my lips at the thought of the easy food. I held myself back, not sure if that was safe, not wanting to be noticed among all these nervous, twitchy yuppies. _Last thing I need to do is screw up my secure status with a Masquerade violation._ I finished my cig and stepped through the doors.

The music enveloped me, throbbing and melodic simultaneously. I found myself taking a liking to the place immediately. The church had various metal walkways installed, giving it an industrial feel. A bar stretched to the left, where an absurdly hot waitress smiled out from. I moved through the crowd towards the bar. From here, I could see the dance floor proper, at the cross of the church. Almost naked women danced in cages suspended overhead, on the dance floor bondage gear and gas masks mixed with suits and classy dresses, and the altar was covered with a cage covered in sacrilegious symbols, topped with an inverted cross. I couldn't help but smile – sacrilege has had a special place in my heart ever since I'd realized my parents were full of shit.

"Everyone comes in here's got to have a shot – house rules. Inhibition's the first thing to go." I looked over at the waitress who'd caught my eye earlier. She had my immediate attention – she was pleasant and fascinating to look at – hot as hell, with enormous breasts that her black skintight midriff shirt showed off very well, and she had this punk look and piercings that told you she was someone intense and interesting. She slammed down a shot glass and filled it with some kind of high-proof vodka from a bottle with Russian writing on it. "Two more of these and you'll be telling me your nastiest, dirtiest stories. I am your beat priestess and it's time to confess."

I looked down at the glass and bitterly regretted not being able to drink actual alcohol – I had the money, and I would have definitely enjoyed taking a shot in this place. I hadn't been to a club proper in years – but still, I liked the feel here. And this waitress. "What's your name?"

"Venus was her name." She looked down at the glass, frowning, as I sat there uncomfortably, not taking my shot. "Got anything you'd like to confess?

All this talk of confession brought up more unpleasant reminders of childhood. _Although... all the fucked up shit I've done lately... gotta hope there's no final accounting for all this... Stop thinking like that. Think of what you're going to say now. _I stalled. "Why all this talk about confessing?"

Venus smiled in amusement. "It's the name of the club. The Confession. You come here take your dirty little secrets off your chest – because alcohol is cheaper than therapy."

I thought for a moment. _It would feel good to get some stuff off my chest, but... Masquerade... wait, does admitting to criminal acts count as a Masquerade violation? It's not like she'd believe me._ With a smile I informed her that, "In the last two nights I've shot up a diner and I blew up the Santa Monica docks. What do you think of that?"

She grinned, then stared me down. "But really, what's your thing, hmm? Stealing from work? Sex in graveyards? Watching the neighbor's daughter with the lights off?"

With a smirk, I threw her back another genuine confession she would think wasn't real. "I managed to convince one twin sister to shoot the other through her eye. I was actually screaming for her to pull the trigger, as a matter of fact." It was pretty fun, actually, saying something close to the truth out loud. Not the full truth, of course – I could _never_ tell the full truth.

Now she was intrigued. I don't think she believed me, so much as she found what she thought I made up to be interesting. "Really? I don't think I've got anything in this place that's going to wash away _that _sin. But you know what, fuck it, nothing exciting ever happens in heaven anyway, right?"

I smiled at that. "I wouldn't know. There's no way in hell I'm getting into heaven. I'm beyond redemption." Somehow, something about saying that in a church struck a chord with my inner child. That being said, my inner child was being rapidly buried away, along with my inner human, my inner Luke. _And what's left of me without them? Fuck it. I'd already abandoned that shit before I'd become one of the undead. I'm not losing anything right now. _

The music belted out lyrics that fit the scene. "I'm walking between the pain... without redemption. I lay my life away! I lost my soul!"

I was pulled back to reality by Venus' voice. "Well, you may not be able to find redemption, but you can at least enjoy damnation. Take a shot."

I sighed. I'd hoped she'd forgotten about it. "I can't. Medical condition."

Venus snorted derisively. "Bullshit. Why'd you come in here then?"

I thought for a moment... _why did I come in here, exactly?_ "Sanctuary from the plagued masses... and I guess for a chance to confess. I'll tell you what, I'll pay for the shot and you can have it." _Man, spending LaCroix's money is so much fun. He gave me a grand, and while I should save some of it, I think one night of being profligate won't hurt. _I threw the money on the table, relishing the feeling of wealth and power, petty as it was. _I can see why LaCroix loves to show off his wealth so much... but I mean, there is a point beyond which that just gets completely unreasonable._

She looked at me with interest. "Hm... and here I thought you were just being cheap. Well then..." Venus reached over, making sure to give me a great view of her "assets," (_funny how even though I'm not actually directly sexually attracted to her, it's still fun to look at... mmm... just thinking of all the blood in there... ha! Some things never change_) before grabbing the glass and hoisting it aloft. "What's your name, killer?"

I almost chuckled at that nickname, but the laugh stopped in my throat – because it was, in fact, true. I turned the aborted laugh into a cough, but the way Venus looked at me told me that she saw what happened. "It's Luke."

"No it's not. You're lying."

I looked at her askance. She had a mischievous grin on, but her eyes were boring into me with intensity. "What makes you say that?"

"You looked down and to the left when you spoke – that means you're lying. When someone looks up, it means they're remembering something. Looking down means shame. Looking right means logic, left means creative. Down and to the left is creative shame – hence, a lie."

I was skeptical, but still... she was right, technically. _What the hell. Telling her my name can't hurt... can it?_ I looked her square in the eyes. "It used to be Luke. It's Lucius now."

Her mouth opened into a large grin. "Gets 'em every time. Alright then. Here's to you Lucius – keep making sure the other guy dies first." With that she downed the powerful brew and slammed the shot glass back onto the table. She exhaled strongly and wiped her mouth off. "Mmm... that's the stuff. So tell me, Lucius... what are you getting into tonight?" She was eying me up and down. If I was egotistical or drunk I'd think she was into me, but I could see a certain calculating logic behind her eyes and in her aura.

"I'm... actually trying to find a place..." _But I'm having no luck... the hell with it, why don't I just go straight to the Last Round?_ "Do you know where the Last Round is?"

She did a double-take at that. "You'd rather be at that run-down dump than here? I really don't think that's your scene, Lucius."

"I don't care if it's my scene or not. I need to meet someone there. Do you know how to get there?"

Once again, I could see she was assessing me, evaluating me... but for what? "Yeah, sure honey. Let me write down directions." She pulled a pen and a business card out of her incredibly tight pink short-shorts and started writing down on the back. She spoke while she wrote. "What exactly do you do for a living, Lucius?"

_I don't think they have a word for what I do... She's prying too much._ "I don't like talking about work when I'm having a good time."

She smiled up at me. "Of course, dear. I understand." Then she gave me a small wink. _Great. Now she thinks I'm a criminal or something._ "Here you are." I took the card. The address was there, along with driving directions. It wasn't too far.

"Thanks, Venus."

"Oh, no problem. Will I be seeing you in my club again, Lucius?"

I looked up in surprise. "Your club?"

"What, did you think I was just some bartender? No, I own this little confessional – I just take a hands-on approach to running it. I'll tell you what – I'll make sure the bouncers know to let you in from now on. No more cover charge. Come back whenever you feel like it."

"Um.. thanks. I might be back some time soon. See you, Venus." With that, I got up and left The Confession.

As I walked out, I realized I hadn't even had a chance to feed inside. I turned the corner to the alley with the dumpster – I heard something down there. I was greeted by the sight of a patron puking his guts out. Most importantly, he was by himself and in a badly-lit area. I walked over, seeming to show concern. Then things got dark and I slipped low, moved quietly, and came in for the bite. After all, I did want to have a drink tonight... and I knew there was plenty of alcohol in him if he was puking. The drink went down smooth and pleasant, an nice blend of intoxication and sustenance.

As I walked out, I thought over what had happened. Venus wanted something from me – I could tell by her aura. I was kicking in Auspex whenever I was having any worthwhile social interaction – I had always had trouble reading faces, and being able to look at auras was like having a desperately needed social cheat available to me. _What exactly did I do that interested her? It was the confessions... which were dumb, why did I do them? I guess this stuff I've been doing has had more of an emotional strain on me than I realized. But no... it was when I coughed up that laugh at her nickname, when she realized I was actually a bit upset by it... and then when I lied about my name... and needing to meet someone at the Last Round... and throwing money around... yeah, I think she thinks I'm in the mob or something. So what does she want? Should I bother coming back here? The hell with it. Task at hand. Which is... to get to the Last Round, I suppose. A shame, that I couldn't find the Tremere Chantry. It's got to be around here somewhere..._

"_It is. Look behind you._"

I froze in place, my sire's words hitting me like a blow. I spun. I scanned the buildings. _Office, apartment, small little building tucked in there, office..._

"_Look again. Look closely. Look past the enchantment."_

_Of course. Auspex._ I scanned again, this time looking carefully. I almost missed it again – because of the way my eye slid past the building, the same way it had when I tried to look at Tung the first time. I stared and saw details I'd passed up earlier, details that should have stood out to me, and yet I'd just let slip past my notice.

The style of the building was absurdly old, almost Victorian. It was a mere three stories tall – a dwarf in the middle of downtown LA. It was constructed entirely out of brick. And most noticeable of all – the glowing purple fire burning in the middle of a circular window at the very top, where the roof became narrow. I blinked, unsure if what I was seeing was real – my mind kept trying to forget, my eyes kept trying to slip past it, and it seemed to almost shimmer in front of me. _Of course I couldn't __find it – I wasn't looking properly. I should really just have Auspex on constantly. If not for the constant blood flow I'd need... Well, time to meet my clan._ I walked forward, into a well kept cobblestone path that led up to an ornate door, lit by two Victorian lamps on either side. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I reached out my hand to open the door.

"_Lucius, before you walk through that door, I wish to speak with you. I know the dilemma which clouds your mind – whether to be bound to clan Tremere or not. I cannot tell you which path you should take, as I never had to face such a choice – none in our clan do. In a way it's a blessing, to not have to struggle with such a difficult question – to chose between knowledge and power. For on the one hand, if you leave clan Tremere, you will have more knowledge than those around you, you will be considered valuable, you will have power and influence. On the other hand, you will never learn anything more about Thaumaturgy. For our clan has a monopoly on such knowledge. And so all that you know now about the subject – all that you understand about the supernatural world and the nature of vampirism – is all you shall ever comprehend. The only way you will find answers is through the clan. I leave the choice to you."_

I didn't know what to say. _I... thank you, Serena. I know you could demand I do something – hell, you could probably force me to, now that I think about it. And you're letting me make that choice. I... _I felt almost guilty... I knew what she wanted me to do – join the clan. I almost felt obligated to her, since she had given me the choice. _Let me get to know them first... this is a big decision, after all._

"_Indeed. Oh, and Lucius? I am honored you wish to take my surname. My full name is Serena Marshall."_

I took another breath to steady myself. I reached out my hand. I turned the knob. The door swung open. I entered.

My first impression of the chantry was... _eerire._ The air itself seemed filled with some kind of static charge, and a whisper of a hum radiated across the background noise. Intricate patterns adorned the walls. Elaborate, stylized ironwork held up glowing lamps. There was a stairway to the right that led up to a door with no handle. To the left there was a hallway reaching back into the building, and a desk situated in front of that hallway, blocking the way forward. A ghoul, dressed in a black suit and a red collared shirt, was sitting at the desk, reading a book. He looked to be about twenty years old, but I knew with ghouls and Kindred apparent age could be deceiving. He looked up at me with deep green eyes that stared out from slightly sunken sockets that were covered in long black bangs as soon as I stepped in.

"Hello. How can I help you?" he asked.

"Um... I'm here to see..." I pulled the riddle from my pocket and read the name. "...M. Strauss, Tremere Regent. Is this the chantry?"

The man nodded. "It is. Do you have an appointment with Mister Strauss?"

"Er... not exactly. He told me to come see him..." I looked back down at the riddle. "...at my earliest convenience. Here." I handed over the riddle that had been placed in my haven.

The man looked the document over for a few moments before nodding. "I see. Mr. Strauss is busy at the moment, but he should be free in a few minutes. Please, feel free to pull a chair out from under then desk and make yourself comfortable while you wait – I'll make sure he sees you as soon as he's able."

I nodded in appreciation and pulled out a wooden chair. I sat myself down and looked around, trying to take the place in. It radiated something otherworldly, whispered of deep secrets of the impossible buried inside. My eyes were drawn to several books adorning the desk, amidst various forms, sign-in sheets, and documents. One particular name caught my eye – Thaumaturgical Creatures. _What on earth... you can create living creatures using Thaumaturgy? I have to know about this._ "Um... excuse me. Could I read that book while I wait here?"

He eyed me warily. "Are you a member of Clan Tremere?"

_Technically... _"Yes, I am."

The receptionist nodded. "Very well."

I took the book and opened it almost reverentially. Here I could get an idea for what secrets lay buried in this Chantry – what the clan offered in exchange for the blood bond. I began reading the introduction.

"The use of blood magic to craft living creatures is one of the most advanced forms of Thaumaturgy, being of the school of Biothaumaturgy. Nonetheless, it is also one of the oldest. Necessity dictated that clan Tremere find servitors and soldiers in the early days of the clan, when we were under constant attack by the Tzimisce and other local vampires. Many old, established clans considered us "usurpers" and "not true" vampires, for the simple fact that we, as a clan, were mortals who had discovered a means of endowing ourselves with immortality."

I stopped. I was stunned. Here was a clan that had unlocked the very secrets of vampirism – mortals who had chosen this for themselves. _Then they have a scientific explanation for this – or at least a logical one of some kind. The grasp the secrets of the essence of this curse. _I couldn't help but admire the boldness of reaching for such a power willingly. I read on.

"Many experiments were tried – on animals, on humans, on other vampires. Through trial and error we learned the methods and the techniques. Many died at the hands of their own creations – but others created beings which they could control. At long last, our clan crafted the pinnacle Thaumaturgical living war machine – the Gargoyle. This gave us the ability to keep our chantries safe and to hold our enemies at bay on the battlefield, allowing Tremere to secure and establish itself. Contained herein is a list of all such Thaumaturgical creatures, along with their properties and natures. May this work serve to educate those newly inducted into our clan in the awesome power that Thaumaturgy may offer to those who dedicate themselves to study and service to the clan.

E. Bankins, Regent, Chicago."

That was the end of the introduction. I set the book down on my lap. I looked over at the receptionist. He read on, oblivious. _This can't be coincidence. This book is like... temptation incarnate. I'm being played somehow. This can't just be some random book I picked up... can it?_ Warily, I looked back down to the text and turned the page. There was a table of contents, listing all manner of strange creatures with names like something out of a Dungeons and Dragons monster manual. I looked up the only one I recognized – the one that had been mentioned in the introduction.

The Gargoyle. A hand-painted rendition of the creature showed a massive, towering man of stone, looking like a giant warrior, wielding a massive sword over a medieval soldier a quarter its size. "During the medieval conflict with the Tzimisce, clan Tremere delved deeper into secret blood Magicks and developed a race of protectors known as Gargoyles. Since their inception, Gargoyles have been used as scouts, warriors, and sentries. Gargoyles are monsters, vampires, by virtue of the flesh through which they are created. They are no more than the detritus of other clans, given a second chance to serve their Tremere creators. Unfortunately, many have wrongly come to view their service as slavery, and have fled their masters in search of some delusional Utopia. Most escaped Gargoyles live in isolation, preferring solitude even to the company of their own kind."

I stopped for a moment, processing this information. _So they're made from vampires... they're powerful, used in war... goddamn. My clan just grabbed some vampires and made them into superhuman slave-soldiers. That's kind of fucked up... and kind of awesome._ I turned to the next page, to see what else they could create.

Homonculi. I saw a picture of a strange, gremlin-like creature, about the size of a cat, standing at attention on a desk, while a Tremere Kindred sat. The creature held out a pen and a notebook to its master. "For the most menial and mindless tasks, many Tremere create what is called a Homonculus. These are mindless creatures which take many forms: winged, many legged, or otherwise. Homunculi are unfailingly loyal, but due to their appearance are a serious threat to the Masquerade."

I was about to turn the page when my attention was interrupted. "Excuse me, Mr. Stauss is free to see you now. May I have your name?"

"Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena."

He suddenly froze. He stared at me. "Excuse me a moment... _you're_ Serena's youngest childe?" I nodded. She certainly didn't sire anyone after me. I guess I wasn't an only childe. "I... I see." The man pressed a red button on the desk and spoke into a 50s-style intercom. "The Kindred's name is Lucius. He says he is the childe of Serena. He only just informed me of this, or I would have let you know sooner." He released the button and reached over, lifting a wooden section of the desk, allowing me through. "Please, go right ahead. Don't worry about which route to take in the hallway – you'll reach Mr. Strauss any way you go. Oh, and if you could please return the book to the desk and sign the sign-in sheet, that would be greatly appreciated." I returned the book to its original position and signed my Kindred name for the first time. With an appreciative nod, I passed through into the chantry proper.

The hallway was covered in beautiful patterns, and was painted a nice, soothing vermillion. The hall branched into a t-junction right after the door. On a whim, I took it right.

I saw a room, a small library. It was lit by a strange candle holder that held two candles at different heights. It sat atop an ornate table that held piles of books. A comfortable, green, luxurious chair that looked like something out of the 60s sat behind the table, next to a bookshelf. In considered exploring, but figured I shouldn't keep Mr. Strauss waiting – I could always come back on my way out. I continued down the hallway.

I came to a t-junction. There were various doors with no handles, with no obvious way to open them. I was confused. _How can every way lead to the same destination?_ I took another right.

As I turned a corner, I felt dizzy and disoriented, and for a brief moment, I felt as though the essence of reality had ripped itself inside out. I swear I saw strange sparkles flashing for a second. Then I was rounding a corner to a hallway with Victorian couches on either side, followed by an ornate door, lit by what looked like twin gas lamps. I turned around, confused.

I saw a hallway stretching out in an unfamiliar path. _I've never been here before..._ I took an immediate left, trying to find my way back. There was another t-juction ahead. I suddenly found myself facing the disorienting sensations again. I found myself once again facing the same hallway, the same door. _So when you're in here, you end up where they want you. Even space and time are at their control. Fascinating._ I walked forward and stepped through the door.

The scene that faced me was comfortable and rustic. A fire blazed on the far wall. Luxurious turquose couches sat around a table topped with several books. The walls were adorned with windows that let in gentle light from the outside, but were themselves adorned with generous amounts of curtains – enough to keep out the sun during the day, should they be pulled down. On the far end of the room, a silhouette against the fire, stood Maximillian Strauss.

I approached slowly, almost reverentially. Strauss stood, tall, towering, and thin. His completely bald head held a red pair of tinted glasses, which only just failed to hide the fascinated eyes that were intent on studying me. He wore a red leather trenchcoat that stretched from the floor to his neck– it would look absurd on most people trying to pull it off, as it would look far too much like Morpheus from the Matrix, but somehow he managed. I'd be more inclined to say Laurence Fisbourne probably copied his look from this guy. Strauss exuded some kind of strange, static charge – as though he were full of power. He examined me carefully, no doubt analyzing my aura, studying me like an insect under a microscope. To my chagrin, I found that while I could activate Auspex here, it was very weak – I could barely make any of the aura out. I walked forward and stood near the imposing figure, unsure what do say or do, standing in awe of power I couldn't quite comprehend but which I knew I wanted to grasp.

Strauss broke the ice. "Greetings, Neonate. Might I assume you received my invitation? I have been looking forward to meeting you since I first saw you in the theater."

_Oh, right... I remember him, up in the balcony, looking down with a blank, impersonal expression._ "Thank you. I've been looking forward to meeting you since I saw your riddle in my haven. I am Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena. I assume you are Mr. Strauss?"

He nodded, a twinge of a smile on his lips, the only sign of emotion on an otherwise blank face. "Correct. Maximillian Strauss. I am the Regent of this Chantry. Welcome."

"Um..." I already had a question in mind, and I hoped that this conversation would lead to some answers or guidance. "...excuse my ignorance, but what was it you referred to me as? A Neonate? And, if I may ask, what precisely do the terms 'Regent' and 'Chantry' mean? I assume that a Regent is in charge of a Chantry, which is a clan Tremere house... am I correct?" It was strange, the ease with which I slipped back into my old role, feeling as though I was once again in Serena's haven, trying to ask questions even as I demonstrated my awareness, intelligence, and overall intellectual worth to her – struggling to earn the right to obtain more answers, further information.

Strauss moved his head back, hiding his eyes behind his glasses, becoming unreadable. "Ah, yes... forgive me. I forget that you were embraced so recently... your recent successes seem to be those of a far older Kindred. To say nothing of your grasp of Thaumaturgy at such a young age..." He let silence fall for a moment, leaving the question of how I had such knowledge hanging in the air. "As for the title which I called you by – Neonate – it refers to your age. Newly embraced Kindred are called Fledglings until such time that they are released from the care and supervision of their sire – a process which normally takes months to years. However, in your case, it seems you are quite capable of surviving and acting as a productive member of Camarilla society without the guidance of your sire, despite your young age – therefore, I refer to you as a Neonate, a title I feel you have earned."

I couldn't help but smile at that. _Finally, some recognition of the absurd efforts I've been forced to slog through. _"Thank you, Mr. Strauss. I appreciate the recognition. Um, should I refer to you as Regent Strauss, or…" I wanted to make sure that I was following correct protocol.

An amused smile crept across his face. "You may refer to me as Regent Strauss. We share the same blood, you and I, but you have much to learn about our clan." That phrase sent a chill through me – _our clan._ "That being said, you are correct in your earlier assumptions – a Regent is the leader of a Chantry, as well as the teacher to young Tremere Apprentices seeking to learn the mysteries of our clan. A Chantry is a local gathering place for those in the Tremere clan. I live here, as do some apprentices. It is the vehicle for Tremere to access Thaumaturgical supplies and books. In short, it is a library, laboratory, administrative center, and home... for those who have been fully embraced into the clan pyramid.

_I can have access to all this... if I agree to be a part of..._ "Clan pyramid? What precisely is the clan pyramid? What does being embraced into that entail?"

Strauss moved his head down and eyed me with a patronizing sympathy. "This new life in which you find yourself undoubtedly seems strange. I'm sure you have many questions. I will answer those which I am able." I felt almost overwhelmed – here was the first Kindred I'd met who openly offered me knowledge, a chance to not be in the dark. "The Pyramid is the social structure of the clan, with each level of advancement watched over by the next. There are Apprentices here at the chantry, who are my charges. And I have a Lord, who watches over me and other local Regents. And so on..." I nodded, processing this data. _So where am I in this system? _Strauss answered the question in my mind. "In most cases, Tremere are very selective about who they embrace and how it is done. There are traditions and laws that we adhere to, so the circumstances of your embrace were, let us say, unconventional. Therefore, you are outside the pyramid."

_Right... couldn't make things more clear. I'm not a part of the system – I'm an outsider, and a dangerous one, because I have knowledge and secrets that only those inside the system should have. I kind of like that, though... it means I'm dangerous, that everyone needs to watch themselves around me. At the same time... I'm alone in the world, I have no support system, no allies. Regardless of my reservations, I should ask about joining, so that Strauss at least thinks I'm interested in being in the pyramid._ "So how would I go about entering the pyramid? How do I become a part of my clan proper?"

I saw the smile creep onto his face, saw the way his eyes scanned me with deeper intensity. "Such things are possible, young one. Normally induction into the clan occurs immediately and automatically following embrace. However, given the unique circumstances of your embrace, you would be required to prove your worth to the clan before it would even be a consideration. Tremere guard their secrets well. However..." Strauss reached into a pocket in his overcoat and pulled out... a syringe. "...an excellent gesture you could make, one that would improve your chances of admission into Tremere proper, would be to offer up a sample of your blood. Such a sample is taken from each fledgling upon their induction to the clan. Tremere would be far less... uneasy about your rogue status were you to freely offer such a sample forth. It would indicate a willingness to go through freely that which most are compelled to perform."

He held the syringe forth. I gingerly took it. This was a big step. "How exactly does having a sample of my blood benefit the clan? What information can you gain from this? What powers would it give you over me?"

The smile faded. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge such information, as it would be a revelation of Thaumaturgical secrets to one not inside the pyramid – a serious violation of Tremere code. This is a matter of trust – either you give the sample freely, or... well, suffice to say, it will reduce your chances of being properly inducted into the pyramid."

I wavered. I had not expected to make a commitment this soon. I felt offended at the extent to which compliance was being all but demanded of me. _No, I don't need this. I can research this stuff myself... I don't need to give up my freedom to them, not like this. I know what Serena would have wanted, but..._

I suddenly felt dizzy... and I swear I saw an ethereal glimpse of something, like a pair of translucent targets... and the barest glimmerings of a whisper.

I shook my head to clear it. I looked back at Strauss, then at the syringe. _What was I doing? The syringe. I was going to… to what? Give him a sample of my blood. Yeah, why not? It gives me a foot in the door._ I stuck the needle into my arm, pulled the plunger, and watched as a viscous black-red fluid was pulled into the plastic container. It would not occur to me until much later that my sudden change of heart was unusual.

I handed the container over. Strauss was looking at me with a bit of confusion on his face, but extended his hand and took the receptacle nonetheless. "Excellent. I assure you that the clan appreciates this gesture, as do I." He removed the needle and placed the sealed receptacle into a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket, under the overcoat. I felt a terrible sense of finality as he tucked it away, as though my fate had already been sealed. "Now, do you have any further questions, Neonate?"

I thought for a moment. _I don't even know enough to know what questions to ask._ "I'm not exactly sure. What's going on in Los Angeles right now?"

An annoyed look crossed Stauss' face. "Let me give you some advice, young one. Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out for yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well…"

I sighed, annoyed at the scolding. _Of course I know I need to stay informed. But without context, how am I supposed to assign meaning to information?_

Strauss noticed my sigh, and pursed his lips in disapproval. I lowered my eyes in deference. Strauss went on. "As for what is going on here in downtown Los Angeles, the word on everyone's lips, Kindred or kine, seems to be: epidemic."

_Wait, what was that term he used… kine? Like cattle? Is that how he refers to humans? That's… real creepy._ I put that thought out of my head, focusing on the issue at hand. "Ah. Hence the presence of the CDC personnel. And all the sick people. I was wondering about that."

Strauss eyed me askance. "Have you not yet been to see the Prince?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he was the first person I went to see when I reached downtown. Why?"

Strauss looked right and upwards. "I see... Strange, that he would not mention such an important fact – this epidemic significantly increases the difficulty of Masquerade maintenance. I assume that it must have simply slipped his mind..." _Hm... or maybe he intentionally sent me out into downtown in ignorance, in the hope I'd screw up. And... is Strauss suspecting the same thing?_

I thought carefully about how to word my next sentence – I needed to see where Strauss stood on this, but I knew I couldn't say anything openly. "So far, it seems the Prince has preferred to throw me into dangerous situations with little to no guidance – perhaps he's hoping that I'll mature more quickly this way?"

Strauss looked upwards, contemplating. "Hm... perhaps. There are many different methods of teaching the difficult and dangerous ways of the Kindred to those newly embraced – I am not one to question the methods of the Prince in this matter, as he has generously offered to take on the responsibilities of your sire, despite his already tremendous commitments. Still, were you under the charge of clan Tremere, rather than the Prince..." Strauss eyed me sideways. "...but I digress. The Prince seems to have done a a sufficient job of preparing you for this new existence."

I felt a bitter bile rise up in me at the thought that LaCroix could be taking credit for my successes, when I had in fact succeeded despite his best efforts. "I suppose. Personally, I attribute my success to the lessons Serena taught me – lessons which I still hold dear to my heart, and always will. Tell me... what was she like? I knew only what she showed me as a mortal. Do you know why she chose to embrace me outside of the dictates of the Traditions?"

Strauss lifted his head, hiding his eyes, becoming unreadable. "Are you not interested in learning first about the epidemic, a matter of far greater practical import to your survival?"

I sighed. The effort to change the subject was obvious... but he was right. _Maybe this is another test, like Serena used to give, to see how patient I could be, how long I was willing to wait and how hard I was willing to work to obtain the answers I desired._ I nodded. "Of course. Necessity comes before all else. Please, continue explaining the situation – and thank you for doing so."

"It seems that disease is spreading at an alarming rate among the downtown population. Considering our... appetites, the local Kindred are more than concerned about these recent developments."

"I see. But... again, forgive my ignorance, but aren't Kindred immune to disease?"

Strauss nodded. "Yes, indeed. However, the Vitae we ingest may continue to be infused with the disease which was infecting the kine – thereby turning the feeding Kindred into a carrier of said disease. While acting as a carrier does not directly affect the Kindred in question, becoming a vector for disease is far from a positive outcome – one ends up leaving a trail of sick and dead in one's wake. In earlier eras, the primary concern of the Kindred as regards an infected populace was the reduction of kine populations to dangerously low levels, leading to open war over the little remaining sustenance. This is still a concern, especially in a city like Los Angeles, where the Kindred population has reached such a level that the Kindred to kine ratio has become dangerously small – primarily thanks to all-too-frequent unauthorized sirings by local Anarchs." Strauss stopped himself and looked at me askance for a moment, suddenly aware how close to home that must be hitting. "However, in modern times, we have an even greater concern – bringing the attention of governmental agencies upon us. If, as is suspected, the activities of Kindred are responsible for this epidemic, then the Center for Disease Control is actively investigating the aftermath of Kindred activities – a serious threat to the Masquerade."

"I see. So does anyone have any idea what – or who – is responsible for this outbreak?"

"My opinion is that the local Anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often leads to such things. Ergo, the need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla."

_Wish I knew something about these Anarchs. They seem looked down upon, and Stauss paints a picture of them as irresponsible, but I can't help but respect anyone who would stand up to LaCroix. Then again, I'm not... maybe they're just dumb enough to say what everyone else is thinking. Well, I'll meet them soon enough at the Last Round. For now, I have to figure out how I can leverage this situation into gain on my part. _"I'm actually heading to the Anarch headquarters at the Last Round – at the request of Prince LaCroix. While I'm there, perhaps I could ask around about the situation. I'll report anything I learn directly to you. And if I learn any way I can remedy the situation, I will take action to fix it."

Strauss now had a glint in his eye, and his face was now broken into an obvious smile. "Hm. An interesting proposition. If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it – no small task, mind you – I will see to it that you are appropriately compensated for your efforts."

"I'm more than happy to help my clan and the local Kindred community. And the only reward I'd ask is the opportunity to gain further knowledge of Thaumaturgy, further access to your research records."

The smile faded, the unreadable expression returned. "What you ask is nothing small – indeed, for one outside our clan, it would be considered an impossible request. However, because you are partially within the clan – and may yet be within the pyramid proper – such things could be considered. Suffice to say, you will be properly rewarded for you efforts – this is not a task required of you simply to prove your place, but an optional service which you may provide your community, a service which will be appreciated more than you know."

_Ah... very nice contrast he created there, between my involuntary work for LaCroix, and my voluntary work for him. Still... I do have to trust that the reward will meet the task. Ah well. This is hardly a commitment. Hell, I don't have to do this – I could just promise to try, say I could find nothing, and it still makes me look good._ "I will trust the clan to reward me appropriately for my efforts."

"Very well. Again, I recommend speaking to the local Anarchs. As you are already aware, you can find most of them at the Last Round, reveling in the vices of their former lives."

I couldn't help but smile – everything seemed to be going quite well, for once. _Maybe my luck is starting to change._ "I'll come right back here as soon as I learn anything worthwhile. However, before I go, I have a few more questions..."

Strauss let a small sigh slip. I'd taken a lot of his time, but I needed more answers. "What is it you would like to know?"

"I'm very interested in learning about my Sire, Serena Marshall. I know she had extensive research projects underway, and I know she spoke a great deal about parting the veil and seeing a world beyond this one – but other than that, all I know of her are the many lessons she drilled into me. Lessons I'm grateful for – lessons I would be dead without, truth be told – but nonetheless, I very much would like to know about her as a person – er, as a Kindred. Did you know her well?"

"Unfortunately, not. She was a... private individual. She conducted her research outside the Chantry, in her personal Haven. While we have recovered all of her research documents upon her Final Death – thankfully before any third parties could attempt to scour through them – we have only begun to make sense of her encoded notes – and what this Chantry has learned I am not authorized to share with those outside the Pyramid. Suffice to say, despite the fact that she was not, in fact, a Regent, and therefore I outranked her, her rank of Apprentice was kept in place, from what I understand, simply to give her mobility – she answered to one above me, and was given complete freedom both to pursue the clan tasks assigned to her, as well as her own private research projects. As such, I am afraid there is little I can tell you about her."

I felt a small ball knot up in my stomach – so close, yet so far... _but he has to know something! _"Surely there's some light you could shed on who she was – did she have any other Childeren? How old was she? Did she do anything major for the clan you could share?"

I swear I saw a glimmer of sympathy flash across Strauss' translucent aura for a moment. "She had several _Childer – _Childer is the plural of Childe, not Childeren – before embracing you, though I do not know their names or their number. As for her research accomplishments – she had discovered numerous noteworthy Thaumaturgical capabilities and properties, none of which I am at liberty to share with you. As for her age... it is interesting you should mention that. Many remarked on the fact that technically, according to the traditions, LaCroix was not authorized to execute Serena, as she was, in fact, his elder. Indeed, you Sire was older than your nation."

I took a moment to take that in. _My god... how much knowledge was lost because of LaCroix? How many centuries of experience were just blasted to dust? And he wasn't even allowed to..._ "So how could he execute her if the traditions didn't allow him to?"

I could see Strauss' lips purse, see that he was upset by this issue as well. "The modern interpretation of the traditions essentially substitutes 'Prince' for 'Elder.' Usually, one who is older holds a more senior position in the political hierarchy. Serena, suffice to say, was more concerned with clan matters than with advancement in the Camarilla. Nonetheless, you are correct in that according to a more conservative interpretation of the traditions, an elder would be required to sit forth in judgment on the matter. It is especially unusual given the fact that this city, there are many Anarchs who have sired numerous illegitimate Childer. Anarchs who are given little more than slaps on the wrist – and have their Childer executed – because of political considerations. When viewed in this context, one can't help but wonder what personal matters betwixt the two may have been ultimately responsible for..." I could see Strauss catch himself, realize that he had revealed something he was not supposed to. "...but I digress. Such speculation serves no purpose – I suppose only LaCroix himself knows the truth of these things, now. It is not my place to question the judgment of our Prince."

_It may not be your place, but I know you disagree with what happened. _"So why was I spared? Since usually, it seems like the Sire is spared and the Childe is killed."

"I cannot know the inner workings of the Prince's mind. You should simply count yourself fortunate that the blade of his Sheriff did not fall upon your neck. Now, if there are no further questions..."

I certainly didn't want to overstay my welcome, but... "One final question – I know the dead can be contacted. I've exorcised a spirit from a hotel for the Baron of Santa Monica, for crying out loud. What about the spirits of dead Kindred? Is there any way-"

Strauss cut me off. "Final Death is considered absolute – death has already been cheated once. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule... but they are rare. I would not recommend investing effort in searching for such an exception – your sire is gone. If that is all?"

I nodded. "I'll be on my way to the Last Round. Thank you for all the information you've given me – Serena always taught me that understanding was the most powerful tool at my disposal. I hope that I will be able to prove myself worthy of joining the clan pyramid – and then, hopefully we can talk more freely about my Sire and Thaumaturgy."

Strauss allowed a shadow of a smile to come onto his face for the final time – and it remained until I left. "Indeed. May you find success in your efforts to cleanse this city of the taint of infection – and your efforts to join clan Tremere. Good evening, Lucius Marshall, Childe of Serena."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

.

.

.

Lucius exited the chantry. He stopped and pulled a bar napkin out of his pocket to read the directions to the Last Round Venus had written there. He decided, much to his detriment, to walk there, since it was so close, oblivious to how bad that part of town was.

Serena moved through the walls of the chantry and floated above her Childe as he walked away. She sat cross-legged directly in front of the burning purple fire – in front of the Umbral nexus. She looked down and smiled at Lucius as he walked away, oblivious to her presence.

_That almost was a disaster,_ she thought to herself. He'd nearly backed out, nearly ruined all her plans – quick intervention had been required. Sure, she had told him he could choose whether he joined the clan or not – as though she'd actually allow someone as young and inexperienced as him to make such a decision for himself. As though there was even a decision to be considered – he _was _going to join the clan. But she understood psychological principles enough to know that pressuring him would not produce the desired result – quite the opposite, actually. She'd managed to maintain a rather excellent idolization of her in her Childe's mind, which she should not squander. By giving him the illusion of choice in the matter, she increased her own esteem and drove him in the direction she wanted him – out of a desire to please her, rather than compulsion.

Even so, when he had nearly gone astray, something had to be done.

The most difficult part was manifesting only her eyes, directly in front of his – so close that they overwhelmed his vision, making identification impossible for her childe. Furthermore, she had to make them appear close so that they'd be hard to differentiate from Lucius' eyes for Strauss. Oh, sure, they'd both seen _something_, but she'd kept it brief enough. Then it was a simple matter of Dominating her childe into compliance with the barest of whispers, with an implanted thought he immediately forgot about. That was easy – it was not as though this was the first time she'd inserted a subconscious command or response-system into him, after all.

_He's done rather well, all things considered. Certainly wouldn't have survived on his own, by any means – but he's still had to adapt remarkably quickly to strange and dangerous circumstances while maintaining enough equilibrium to survive and take instructions when necessary. He's proven remarkably intelligent and aware, as well – he's not just surviving, he's learning. I chose my final childe well._ It was a bit of a shock, to fully realize that even if she survived forever, she would never sire again. Still, surviving at all had been a miracle in and of itself. She still had to marvel at her ingenuity, taking astral projection and altering it in such a marvel way – tying her silver cord to her Childe's corporeal form in order to escape from oblivion, or whatever afterlife awaited Kindred – she really wasn't interested in finding out.

She laughed to herself about an irony in the whole situation – the way she'd siphoned off her own Childe's vitae-essence in order to Dominate him. Of course, use of such blood-stolen powers had to be kept to a minimum, lest she drive her Childe into frenzy. But she had found other energies, other ways of altering her universe. And what a strange universe it was, on the other side of the veil. She'd spent most of the last half-century primarily astrally projecting, spying on whatever the clan had needed her to, researching whatever caught her fancy. But now she was even less restricted in what she could do, where she could go – she could pass freely back and forth into the Umbra... and beyond.

In a way it was simply a new form of existence which she was getting used to, much like her Childe. _A new way to feed, new powers, new means of existence... maybe this is the rumored Golconda... or maybe it's something else entirely._

She could siphon no more energy from the Chantry for the time being without alerting Strauss. She was not yet ready to announce her presence to him – he would be more inclined to capture her and study her, or perhaps he would increase security around the chantry to keep out spirits. Both were outcomes she wished to avoid until she knew she could manifest herself for a long period of time and definitively prove she was who she said she was. Until then, best not to lose a major energy source – and a means of looking through her old notes and Tremere reference materials. She just had to make sure no one noticed the randomly opened books, the pages occasionally turning on their own. When anyone came in on her research sessions she stopped all motion, and it all just looked like someone had left a project in the middle of research – a common enough practice in most Chantries.

"The roots of this city wrap around the great worm, and all who live in its stinking bowels bloat themselves upon apocalypse nectar!" They were the words of a madman, but they were not far from the truth. _Perhaps he was an unprepared mind that simply saw too much – who can say? _Nonetheless, there were many things that needed exploring. Far too many nephandic pits around Los Angeles for her liking – should such a delicate political tipping point be swallowed up by any of the many disasters that threatened, the global result could be catastrophic. She had to find out more about the situation – further information was required before a plan of action could be calculated. Many such explorations involved danger – but she deemed them necessary. Her biggest fear was that while she was busy exploring these things, her Childe would get in serious trouble, and she would be unable to help him.

_Ah well, I'm quite sure he'll be fine – after what he went through in Santa Monica, what could he possibly encounter on the streets of downtown Los Angeles that would prove problematic?_

_._

_._

**Tune in next week, when Luicus gets lost in a bad part of town and has to ask for directions from some friendly locals! :D**


	26. Chapter 25:I Have No Mouth I Must Scream

**Sorry for taking so long on this chapter – life has been beyond insane lately. That, and the fact that I wanted this chapter to be exceptional – I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Flying Frog – Of course Serena isn't as much of an angel as Lucius thinks she is – every Childe starts out idolizing their sire, and since Serena isn't around to demonstrate otherwise to him, Lucius is going to think of her as a goddess. Let's just say that Serena is as intelligent as she is cold-hearted. And as for her not realizing how bad downtown LA is – I'd say she's just assuming her Childe is a bit more competent at taking care of himself than he really is. Poor Lucius, he still has so much to learn...**

**Rednightmare – Strauss himself is still trying to test Lucius, to see if he'd be worth bringing into the pyramid – hence why he wanted Lucius to give the sample willingly. It was Serena who Dominated him – to make him seem willing to Strauss, to make sure her little puppet ends up in the clan proper, right where she wants him. Don't think this is the last time Serena is going to try that trick, either... though Lucius may start to notice at some point. Regardless, though, you are right that Lucius is pretty much destined to end up in the Chantry... though not for all the reasons you might think. As for the epidemic, it like everything else in Bloodlines, always seemed like it could have been developed further, could have been integrated so much better. I would have liked it if you could have ended up feeding from the infected and ended up as a disease carrier, and had to go to the Chantry to be cleansed or something, while Strauss lectures you about being careful while you feed. Ah well. I'll play up the paranoid, terrified aspect of the epidemic among the Kindred far more in this story – there's just so much fun one can have with that sort of thing, I don't know how I'd be able to pass up that opportunity. Oh, and as for the interior decorating of the Kindred in Bloodlines – I can forgive bookish Strauss for not really caring about how things look – I imagine he hired a decorator sometime in the 1800s, briefly looked up from a book he was pouring over, and told them "I don't know, put in a bunch of red." But Isaac – you've got no excuse, man! I mean, if you Toreador can't be good decorators, what exactly are you good for? Aside from being annoying as piss... though I should give them some credit, Sabbat Toreador can be fun, as I hope this chapter will show. And finally, as for Joelle... yeah, I stole her straight from your story. Please don't sue! :P Still, I can only imagine the insanity that a crossover fic between BE and BB would entail... The courtroom scene would be only the beginning of the weirdness, I can only imagine the way the conversation between LaCroix and Lucius would go in his office. "Hey grandchilde, sorry about killing your sire and all, but she really was a liability to me, despite her loyalty. But I'll totally reward your loyalty! So... how exactly did she embrace you into a different clan, again?" ...Let's just stop thinking about this madness now, before we go all Malk and actually start writing that nonsense for our own amusement.**

**Mwjen – You're in luck! It continues now!**

**...**

The streets became bad very fast. At first it was just the abundance of liquor stores that gave it away, the abundance of trash on the streets. Then it was the bars over the windows, the trashcan fires, the bums just huddling openly on the sidewalks around them, getting aggressive in their requests for money. And instead of acting grateful when you pay them to shut up – which I did gladly, since it was LaCroix's money anyway – the others just became more aggressive and started to almost swarm. I was so focused on avoiding them that I barely noticed the shadowy figures that lurked in the alleys – at least not until the baseball bat hit the back of my head with sledgehammer force.

All I knew was motion and pain. Later, I would be able to recreate what happened in detail – the way I was hit with such force that my head smashed into the side of the alley, bounced off, and impacted the other side. I struggled to make sense of what was going on, adrenaline flooding my veins – too late. Before I was even aware of anything beyond the sickening, disorienting motion and pain, I felt that horrible, gut-wrenching sensation – the first damn thing I'd ever felt upon my embrace. I was staked.

I went limp. I saw the abomination leering above me, and would have puked if I wasn't paralyzed. His face was an inhuman, hairless, lizardlike monstrosity. His nose was nothing but a pair of slits cut into grey, leathery skin. The eyes were narrow and hateful, and stared at me with a delightful glee that was sending my mind into frenzy – which I would have been fine with at that moment, if I'd been able to move. He smiled down with a wide mouth stuffed full of sharp teeth. The crowning moment was the way he licked his lips perversely with a forked tongue – that was the last thing I saw before he dragged me through the back alleys.

_Oh god, this can't be happening. Not now. Not after everything I've been through. And I thought the idea of dying right after being embraced was hellish. For fuck's sake, after all I've survived... You know what, fuck it. I'm sick of all the bullshit. Just end it now and be done with it._

As though it would be that easy. As though it's ever that easy. I came to when the stake was pulled from my chest with a sickening _squelch_. I tried to get up and run. The handcuffs and twisted iron rebar around my wrists and ankles made that effort produce no more than ineffective wriggling. The Kindred huddled around me laughed at my efforts.

"Pathetic Camarilla weakling!" A boot impacted my abdomen and sent me flying backwards into a metal bench. I felt my ribs crack – first when the foot connected, then when I hit the bench. I cried in agony – what else could I do? I coughed up a punctured lungful of blood. My cries only solicited more mocking laughter.

"Probably couldn't even have made it out of his own grave!" I looked over and saw the grey-skinned Tzimisce asshole who'd staked me and dragged me here spitting insults my way. He had a small, sadistic smile on his face that made me want to vomit – I could only imagine what tortures his wretched mind was concocting. I began desperately wishing that Therese had decided to kill me, that I had been blasted apart in the attack on the Sabbat. The detached, inhuman, yet perversely anticipatory look in his eyes scared me more than the sight of the blowtorch and pliers at his feet. Almost impulsively, I turned my eyes away from his gaze. Next to him was an animalistic creature, with a wolf snout and ears, abundant fur everywhere, and enormous, ferocious claws. While my assailant was mind-destroyingly terrifying, this Sabbat was merely horrifying. There was no subtlety to his hate – he looked at me like I was a meal, with open predatory hunger in his eyes. I'm sure the worst thing he could think of to do to me was to maul me. I was quite certain far worse was in store for me.

I was distracted from this bizarre audience by the leader, the one who had kicked me. He seemed so familiar, so comforting compared to his companions – he was normal, human, just greasy and filthy. I almost wanted to hug him – except for a terrifying, dead stare in his eyes. "We shall see. Tell me, young Camarilla undead... tell me, newly embraced among the damned and fallen – how badly do you wish to live? It is a fundamental question, is it not? After all, whatever natural order of death and life manages the universe, we have defied it. We are abominations. What justifies our existence? Nothing more than will. We are simply spirit that refuses to die. We are will that refuses to be snuffed. The intensity of your will to live is an end unto itself." He began arranging various instruments of torture out. A blowtorch. Pliers. Wires, which caused me to notice the nearby car battery. Next to it was an already burning bed of coals laid out in this secluded, abandoned dead end. It was at that point, when I realized that a full medieval torture chamber had been set up openly in the streets of LA in this part of town, that I understood that I was completely and absolutely beyond help. I was at the mercy of these monsters – what little they had.

"Among the Sabbat, we have a code of conduct, a primary belief system, an overarching philosophy which guides us. While there is much to this philosophy – for we are far more than brutal savages, wantonly destroying as part of some nihilistic, thrill-seeking death-cult – there is only one aspect you need to be aware of, only one aspect which affects you. We shall not end your life except by your request. That is the only rule – we will adhere to no standards of humanity or mercy in our treatment of you. This is a test of your will to continue your existence. We will take you to the brink of oblivion, but always will we give vitae, always will we stop short of killing you – unless you ask to die. It shall be interesting to see how long you last. If you manage to impress us, we may even offer you a chance to join us."

"I doubt that's a possibility," the Tzimisce snidely shot. "These Tremere are always so weak. Tell me, what is the primary thing that drives you – why do you continue your existence in the face of adversity and oblivion?"

I didn't expect such a deep philosophical concern to come up here. _These beings are far more intelligent than I was aware. Maybe there's some way I could convince them..._ But I knew far better. They were intelligent – and maybe they even had some deep points about life and vampiric existence. But they were divorced from their humanity. They could not be convinced to show mercy. I realized that I had to think carefully about what anchored me to existence – it could very well be all that would pull me through this. I didn't know if I'd emerge from this in one piece, or even as the same being I had been going in – but I knew I meant to survive it. _Why? Because I want to know. I want to know how the fuck it all works. I don't want to die as just another ignorant fool, oblivious to it all. I want to add to the understanding of this world, as well – to study, to write, to publish – like I used to dream of in college. I used to dream that I'd go somewhere, discover something worthwhile – that my existence would somehow be more than just another body passing through life._

I was ready to answer – to present my defense against oblivion. "Understanding. I want to understand what's going on in this universe, and not just live and die ignorant."

The Lizard laughed. "A common answer among your clan. And what makes you think truth is to be found among the carefully controlled and censored libraries of your chantries? They only publish that which advances their interests, they brainwash all in your clan – and you claim to be advancing our species understanding of this universe. Hmph."

With that they began moving to their places – the guard dog, who I had come to think of as the Beast, took up position at a padlocked gate in a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, his role obvious. The Lizard simply sat and watched. The Leader began picking up various tools, arranging things, preparing for god knows what – that was the worst part, not knowing what they were going to do, just having to lay there.

_There has to be something, anything... wait... what the Tzimisce was saying... about my clan..._ I stared down my lizardlike, inhuman accuser. "You're wrong. I'm not restricted to what Tremere tells me. I'm not inducted into my clan – I never drank the blood."

They all stopped. The Leader immediately spoke up. "If that's true..."

"It isn't," the Lizard stated simply. "And even if it is, it doesn't matter. We shall extract his secrets ere his end. And if he cannot endure the harrowing, then he does not deserve to continue existing, regardless of what abilities and knowledge he may posses."

The Leader paused, his hand upon his chin in contemplation. I stared up in desperate longing, hoping that my one hope wouldn't prove false. "Perhaps... perhaps. A rogue Tremere is an asset of extreme value. Perhaps this matter should be decided by one above our station."

A smirk crept across the face of the lizard. "You refer to Andrei. I can inform you exactly of what he will tell you, should you come before him with this wretch. He will tell you to adhere to the traditions of the Sabbat. He will tell you that you have allowed personal ambition and human-like weakness to overcome you. He will tell you that you have erred greatly to bring a dangerous Tremere to him – a Tremere which could be under all manner of Thaumaturgical enchantments beyond our comprehension. He may very well have been sent into our midst as some form of elaborate trap. And far worse than these things, you will have shown mercy to one of the clan of traitors, thieves, and diablarists – the clan more responsible than any other for the creation of the wretched Camarilla. He will not be pleased, to say the least."

I could tell the leader was upset to see his authority undermined. His face was done up in a harsh scowl. _C'mon, c'mon, don't let him push you around like that... get into a fight..._ But it was not to be. "You have a point," was all the leader said.

"No! No, please! I'll tell you what you want to know! I'll join you guys, whatever you want!"

The leader roared his head back and laughed uproariously. "Oh, I know you'll tell me what I want to know, one way or another. And we don't take applicants that can't pass our little test. All of us had to crawl out of our graves. Do you know what we did to the Beast over there upon his embrace? We locked him in a locker inside a room with his family. He has so frenzied, so famished upon tearing the metal apart, he devoured them all." He leaned down and stared at me with eyes so completely devoid of humanity I felt I was staring into the essence of the void itself. "We'll see if you have what it takes to join the Sabbat, whelp. Now..." He reached over and grabbed a hot poker from the fire. "...we've dallied long enough. Let us get this underway."

"No! Listen, I can explain all about how blood magic works, it's very essence! Please, I'm telling you, bring me to your boss, he'll want to see me!"

"Your words bore me. You shall cease them," said the Leader. He dropped the poker and moved towards my face with pliers and a knife. He reached the pliers out quickly towards my mouth as I tried to speak, attempting to grab my tongue. I gritted my teeth shut, refusing to submit to the treatment. He only laughed. "So, we have a fighter! Excellent!" He handed the knife to the Lizard, who promptly held it over the coals with long tongs. The Leader then took a screwdriver from the ground and shoved it in my face. He jammed it up to my teeth, and with the palm of his hand he smashed it in with bone-shattering force. I felt my front tooth crack in half, tasted the iron of the metal in my mouth – then he wrenched the screwdriver sideways. My mouth was forced open, my tooth cracked down the middle as the metal bit into the root, eliciting screams of pain from the nerve and from me. He shoved the screwdriver further into my mouth, before slamming down on the butt of the screwdriver with his palm. I felt my mouth forced open with industrial strength, as the tip shoved itself into the roof of my mouth. He then shoved the metal object further into the roof of my mouth, trapping my mouth open.

I was shaking in terror, wretchedly struggling against my chains. The Lizard licked his lips and pulled the knife out of the fire, the blade glowing red hot. I tried to bite down again, to shove my teeth shut as a filthy hand reached towards me with a pair of rusty pliers. I felt the screwdriver shove deeper into the top of my mouth, felt my flesh resist. The terror overcame the pain and I forced my jaw closed with superhuman strength. The screwdriver was forced into my skull with a sickening crunch. I felt the metal stab into my brain and I suddenly had trouble thinking properly, if only for a moment. That moment was all my tormentors needed. Even as I forced the screwdriver through the top of my mouth, my teeth were still held open with the handle. The leader reached in and yanked my tongue out before I could figure out what was going on. He pulled the sensitive appendage out, squeezing it in a painful vice.

The Lizard handed the Leader the red-hot blade. He took it and liked his lips like the Lizard. The metal descended towards my tongue. I felt the searing heat cook me the instant the blade made contact. For a second, I could taste my own tongue cooking, taste the sickening broil of my necrotic flesh. The heat blasted my existence into a burning hell. I emptied my lungs in a wretched scream as I arched in agony.

The Leader held my tongue aloft in his pliers. He looked at it for a moment with detached eyes before casually tossing it in the nearby coal pit. I tried desperately to heal the damage, but the burned flesh would not yield to my supernatural abilities except at a snail's pace. "Well," began the Leader, "time to get this properly started." He grabbed a set of rib spreaders and moved towards me.

It wasn't the pain that really got to me as I was sliced open from neck to navel – it was the raw, anticipatory terror of what was about to be done to me that really drove me mad. And it was at the moment my tormentors began to truly enjoy themselves – the moment the Leader cracked open my ribs and began poking around inside, the moment that the Lizard held my intestines aloft and mushroom-like protrusions began spouting rapidly from them, that I realized I was truly in hell, truly beyond hope.

…

Serena stared into the darkness. These nephandic tunnels ran deep, and there were so many places to hide. But she was nearly there, nearly at the core of this one. Its secrets would be hers, its power, its energy. She had just a few more layers to unravel, and then –

She felt the panic light up her mind like a throbbing klaxon alarm. There was no question as to its meaning or source – her childe was in mortal danger. Which meant her own existence was in jeopardy. _Perhaps I could delay but a few more moments... I'm so close..._ She felt her noncorporeal form constrict in panic, like a chest tightening in worry, a throat closing in terror. She knew that whatever was being done to Lucius, it could end his existence at any moment. There was no choice in the matter. She fled to him.

Normally she could have been at his side in a single instant, but she would now have to navigate these strange tunnels carved into the depths of the Umbra. It would take time – time she wasn't sure she or her childe had.

… …

The hot iron seared into my insides, melting my intestines into a liquified goo. I could smell the sizzling of dead flesh, like rotted meat being burned. The pain shot through me like undulating waves of sharp fire, like piercing lances of white agony. I convulsed over and around the red-hot spike that had been jammed into me through my throat. I didn't know how long I had existed in this hell – it seemed like eternity. At long last, I felt the agony shift, felt as the iron was pulled out of my throat. The knot of melted guts was pulled out along with the iron, ripping my throat and mouth apart. I didn't care. I basked in the ecstasy of relief as I came to remember a life before the burning pain.

The relief lasted for exactly one moment before I was thrown face-first into the burning embers. At least here I could spasm, could try and move away from the flame. It only took a few moments for me to roll myself off of the coal bed, only to be kicked directly back on. What followed can only be described as a sick game of torture-soccer, as the Leader and the Lizard stood on either side of me, kicked me back onto the coals whenever I managed to roll myself off them.

I tried to just sit and endure, to avoid giving into the primal urge to escape the pain – after all, I knew it was pointless – all trying to escape did was give my tormentors amusement. I felt my face melt away, felt my flesh burn off, I felt my eyes and skull burn away - I felt my essence disintegrate into oblivion as my brain fried. I recoiled in instinctual, frenzied fear. I forced muscles that had been cooked long past the point they should be able to contract into motion through my sheer will. I flew out of the pit at superhuman speed, as I convulsed in a desperate spasm that rocked me in a backwards somersault.

The back of my head impacted the concrete and I barely felt it. The front of my head, my entire face, was gone. What had been my mouth was now a gaping hole of burnt and melted flesh that led to a ripped-out pit in my abdomen. I felt like my will to live was slipping away. I desperately tried to scream through a ruined aperture and produced an agonized wheezing, as I willed the burnt pit to contract – if only to make some noise, some expression of my agony. I spasmed wildly, desperate to escape this hell, hoping my random motions would lead me out of here. I was blind, I was devoid of vitae – I could barely animate myself, and all I felt was frenzied terror. The Beast was all that sustained me now.

I felt my feet gripped by the Lizard's cold hands. I felt my feet extend and warp, transform into inhuman tentacles that stretched as long as my legs. I could feel the twisting appendages – I could move them. _This can't be real, it can't it can't oh god no..._

I felt the vitae touch my gaping mouth-wound. I felt every nerve light up in ecstasy, felt an overwhelming light of salvation and survival. It was the most exquisite thing I'd ever tasted, and while I drank it I was love with its source – the Leader himself. The vitae was cut off after I had been completely sated – after I had reached the point I could now stop and think about what had just happened. _He bound me to himself. I can't fucking believe this – even if I survive, I'm going to be his slave if I drink much more of his blood._ The pain kept me from thinking about it any further. I focused on healing myself. I felt my flesh knit and reform, reconstructing itself into familiar, human shapes. My eyes slowly grew forth from the burned mass that had been my face, and vision returned to me. I immediately wished I had decided to remain blind.

The damage to my flesh was not what upset me – that was almost comforting, since wounds were familiar to me at this point. Sure, that gaping hole in my abdomen was disconcerting, but it was a human wound.. But the things coming out of the wound... the horrible intestinal extensions with gaping, hungry mouths, all screeching out in terrible, infant-like cries... and the way I could feel then moving and crying, feel them like parts of me... I almost vomited the blood right back up. The tentacles extending from my legs where my feet had been were just icing on the cake at this point. I shut my eyes, trying to block out the terrible sight – but I could still hear the horrible mewling of my intestinal worms, still feel them crawling around.

"It's quite amazing, really," the Lizard began lecturing me, "the extent to which so many sentient beings associate form with identity. Form is such a malleable thing, after all. Among mortals, the reshaping of form requires little effort, and even among Kindred all forms are ultimately ephemeral. And if form and identity are related, then is identity, the essence of what makes a being, equally ephemeral? Or is there some deeper meaning to identity, hidden beyond form? It is a pertinent question. For after all, the answer to this question – whether form and identity are connected – will determine whether what I am about to transform you into is a fundamental change in who you are, or simply my way of revealing to you the ultimate truth of who and what you are. I'll leave it to you to decide which it is as you go through this."

"Hold," interrupted the Leader. "Do you wish to continue existing? Or do you wish for oblivion?"

I was in agony. I had no hope of escape. I would only know pain and horror. _What reason do I have to keep going? __**You don't need a reason, weakling. We survive because we must. We simply survive. **_ Yet the beast had exhausted itself with frenzy, and it's raw animalistic energy couldn't sustain me on its own. I reached into myself and found a reserve of strength and will I didn't know I had. In the end, it came down to frustration. _I can't give up now. Not after everything I've been through. Not right when I'm on the cusp of answers. I can survive this. I know I can. _"I won't give in. I'll survive this."

The Lizard smirked, but the Leader smiled. "Commendable will. I hope it sustains you through what we have in store for you. You may feel as though you have died as you endure this trial – and in many ways you will die. That which you were will be destroyed. But keep in mind, you've died before. If you are strongly enough connected to existence, if you are too connected to slip away into pain and pity an oblivion, the death will be a simple transformation, nothing more. Oh, and in case you are of the opinion that we are horrible monsters and demons for what we do to you, keep in mind that you yourself are a monster that steals life and murders to sustain yourself. In the eyes of God, we're all equally damned. One may as well embrace damnation and revel in it. Your clinging to your precious humanity will not save you should you face final judgment. At least we are honest about our true natures – as you shall be, should you endure this."

With that, the Lizard came forward, his hands extended, a twisted smile upon his face. I squirmed, desperate to escape his ministrations. I failed. As he lay his hands upon me and I watched myself become something completely alien, completely disconnected from what I had been, I came to realize that the pain I'd endured earlier had been comforting and familiar – that the true horror, the true test was about to begin.

… … …

Serena had nearly made it out of the caverns. Once she was out in the Umbra proper, it was only a matter of crossing the veil and returning to her anchor. The psychic emanations from her childe were becoming most troubling – she was beginning to dread what she would find when she got there.

… … … …

I saw from a thousand angles, dizzy and horrified at the overwhelming sensory input that my mind simply could not resolve. Not that I wanted to – not that anything I saw did anything but sap my will to live. I desperately screamed out for blood with dozens of mouths stretched across a torso of distended flesh that bulged like a bean bag. My arms and legs had shriveled into skeletal, vestigial appendages that flopped to either side of a torso that rested on a mound of fat.

There was only one thing I could do when faced with such a complete shattering of my concept of self and reality.

I screamed.

I screamed with many mouths and the sound was horrifying.

The Leader stood in front of me with his eyes closed and hands raised in the air, basking in the sound of my mind shattering in stereo.

The Lizard stood slightly behind him, looking me over with a sadistically satisfied smile on his face. "Beautiful, is it not?" He had worked on me for so long... the agony had been unbearable... was unbearable. The only breaks had been when he ran out of blood from his crafting. Ghouls were constantly dropping off kidnap victims at the gate, victims the Beast dutifully carried to his masters, getting the occasional treat as a reward.

"I find the symphony of his screams far more pleasing than the sight of his distended form. For in his screams, I hear the breaking of his soul, his essence – which is far more wonderful than any physical malformation."

_I want to die... I can't take this any more... No! I'll change back the next night – this is temporary. At least, I hope so... God, I hope so. God? God? In this hell, I think of God? Ha! Ha ha ha!_ And I laughed with many mouths at the absurdity of a being like me praying to a god of any kind.

The Leader opened his eyes and frowned. "Laughter? How very aesthetically jarring. How very interesting, but... ah, but the feeling is lost now. Perhaps if he could be made to scream again? But... no, I'm afraid it's already gone. Ah well. All things wilt in their time."

"Perhaps further alterations could elicit a different sort of sound you might enjoy?"

I shuddered at the though of what else this monster could come up with. _I can't take this. I don't want to exist like this any more. _I had discovered that the desire to understand was not nearly as powerful as I originally believed. Hell, I was so miserable right now because of the overload of information, which was fracturing my mind like a fist impacting a mirror. I wished I could block out the visions of my warped form, wish I could pretend it wasn't happening – but the Lizard, in an act of final cruelty, had created no eyelids for my new eyes. _Why bother? I could just ask to die. At this point..._ The beast cried out in defiance of my suicidal thoughts, screaming of all the pleasures still available to us – but his hedonism wasn't enough to justify existence to my analytical mind. Frustration was no longer enough to sustain me, either. I needed something firmer, something I could cling to through the loss of my form, my whole sense of identity. _I just can't-_

My thoughts were cut off by a clear, loud scream that echoed from everywhere and nowhere. I looked around with my many eyes, only to once again nearly puke in disorientation.

The Leader frowned further. He acted as though he had heard no scream, nothing at all. "No, no. It's already too late. Besides, I'm beginning to suspect our subject is in the midst of madness. Which is excellent, but I want to be able to converse with him as his mind breaks. Pull out the original form – let's start this over."

The Lizard was obviously upset by this. "Surely that's not necessary. I've already put such work into the current form – perhaps further alterations-"

He was cut off by a sharp, "No. This form is gaudy, anyway. It lacks a certain... subtlety, grace, I don't know, some _gen a se qua_. Back to the original – _now_."

The Lizard sighed, then moved up to me. He grabbed a knife and began cutting eye stalks off of my head. Soon I was blind, and could only sit helplessly as I was altered. Even so, I was all but crying in joy. _He's changing me back! Oh thank god – thank fate, I guess. Or maybe... can prayers still be answered, even now?_

I felt the Lizard's hands on my torso, reforming it, closing the last of the toothless mouths. I now had no mouth I could open, for he had sealed the original shut with a flap of skin at the start of his work. I wanted to cry out, but was unable to. I cried in my mind, begging for a mouth to scream and speak with, for eyes to see with.

"Hold a moment!" cried the Leader.

"Ah yes," replied the Lizard. "Of course. How exquisite, the juxtoposition between the many eyes and mouths – the multitude of which overwhelmed the mind into shattering – and now the complete deprivation of sight and expression, allowing the shattered pieces to stew within a void of themselves."

"Indeed. There are times, you know, where I think you almost capable of true refinement. If only you could shed a bit of your bestial and sensual enjoyment of brutality for its own sake, you could recognize that truly one ought to use brutality in service to some higher cause of self-realization and artistic expression. I believe you are on the path to understanding this. Observe the way that in the process of undoing your work, you have created a new work of art, and indeed the two works juxtapose one another in such a way as to become part of a single act of the expression of the possible, a full work of art greater than the sum of its parts."

Their discussion on the artistic merits of my deformity was interrupted by the most reassuring thing possible – the voice of my sire, whispering into my mind.

"_Lucius, listen very carefully to what I'm about to say. Just because you can't pray to god doesn't mean there aren't other supernatural avenues of aid. I'm here to watch over you – our survival is mutually dependent. I'm going to bring help to you. Just wait. Endure all they do to you, tell them nothing, and take comfort knowing that you will be saved._"

_Wait! Will these deformities heal? How long do I have to go through this? Serena? Serena?_

Nothing. I was on my own again. But that reassurance – that I was being watched over by someone, anyone who cared about me – was enough to sustain me. I was able to exist quietly within the confines of my sensory deprivation, my mind no longer scratching at the edges of my head in mad desperation. _I have a reason to live, no matter what happens to me – my sire. Her survival depends on mine. My life isn't only my own. I have a responsibility to the one who embraced me, who's guided me and helped me. I won't give in – I have to be stronger than that for her._

… … … … …

Nines was not in the mood for this shit.

He kicked the corpse over with his toe. The face was too mangled to tell whether this guy had died at the hands of a deadly mugger shooting point-blank or a hungry Kindred with a penchant for dramatic violence. Once, hunting down Sabbat packs had been simple enough – just follow the trail of mangled corpses. But the Sabbat – or at least the Sabbat leaders – weren't stupid. Whenever they entered an area, the promoted mass violence among the people – gangs, mentally broken psychopaths with Domination instructions to randomly kill – all kinds of acts of random violence that made following the trail difficult, like trying to track a specific prey across a field that hundreds of animals had been stomping around in.

And now, with this epidemic running rampant through downtown, following the corpses was worse than useless – it could run you into CDC units. Even so, he had a responsibility to keep this domain as clean as possible. Especially now that LaCroix seemed to be watching every move he made as carefully as a cat watching a bird, complaining of every Masquerade violation that every Sabbat asshole committed on his land, arguing that he was responsible for taking care of the problem – even as LaCroix complained when he used force to handle the shovelheads. Once, they'd been free to operate however they'd seen fit. They adhered to their own version of the Masquerade, true, but since they ran the local government and half the newspapers, they'd had leeway to do whatever the hell they wanted – within reason. Once the Sabbat had moved in, they'd had to start getting real violent to start pushing them out. That was right around '92 – right around when all that "gang violence" started getting real bad. They'd gotten brutal, but they'd covered their asses in the media.

Once the Cam showed up, though, they started fastidiously keeping track of every shootout, every building they'd had to blow up. LaCroix had a way of turning everything on its head in front of the Barons, making Nines look like a dangerous crusader who was putting their domains at risk – even though he was doing all this specifically to keep the independent Baron's domains safe, even though he was the only thing keeping the Sabbat from sweeping up from their base in southeast through Downtown into Hollywood. It was easy for LaCroix to sit there and lecture – real easy to keep your hands clean when the only territory you grab is safe and so saturated in human law enforcement that you don't actually have to fight to hold on to anything. He'd come in and taken over half of downtown by signing checks and contracts, while Nines had to fight and struggle for every damn block. Although, after that latest little stunt in Santa Monica, Nines had a little more leeway to make some noise in the process of cleaning up his territory. Strange, that whole incident – LaCroix's damage control and media manipulation had been so haphazard, Nines was starting to suspect he hadn't actually been expecting that bomb to go off. For now, though, he was going to wait an see what LaCroix's next move was – and keep doing these damn patrols, hoping to make a small dent in cleaning up what used to be the Anarch home base, and had now become a miserable, run down war zone where his army only had marginal control.

He sighed and walked on. The most frustrating thing was the way he could waste an entire night patrolling and clear out almost nothing. These nights, it almost seemed like the harder he tried, the further into a hole he dug himself. Not that he was going to stop – not that he was going to give an inch to any of the invading bastards that were trying to actively tear down the Free State. But some nights...

Nines saw something in the corner of his eye. He turned and noticed someone skulking into an alley. Nothing particularly unusual about it, but... he just got a strange feeling about it. He walked over – after all, it's not like he had any other leads, anything else to be doing tonight.

He looked down the narrow opening into a dark alleyway. He saw the figure who'd entered the alley, sneaking up behind some poor, unsuspecting bum. A quick application of chloroform later, and the homeless individual was stuffed into a trash bag and being dragged down the street.

While kidnapping wasn't exactly unusual around here any more, the individual was far too confident, far too certain of what he was supposed to be doing. Nines knew a Sabbat ghoul gathering blood for their master when he saw it. Finally, he'd found a fresh trail worth following. Nines carefully trailed his lead, glad that he could take care of at least one problem tonight.

… … … … … ...

The next thing I knew, the Lizard's hand was upon my face. My mouth could open. My eyes could open. I lashed out, trying to bite his hand as soon as I could see it. He pulled back in time – but just barely.

The Lizard scowled at me, but the leader simply laughed. "I think the poor boy is hungry. Here – let's not have frenzy clouding your mind, preventing you from appreciating what we're doing to you. It's such a shame, after all, creating a great work of art and having no one of refinement and intellect to appreciate it, no?" With that, he moved over to me, cut his wrist, and allowed his blood to drain into my mouth. I knew what drinking his blood would do to me and I didn't care.

The taste was electrifying and exquisite. I felt the essence of the supernatural will to exist, to move, to reject oblivion and death flow into me. I felt a mind that had stretched itself completely beyond the limits of what it meant to be human, a mind that had moved to some... higher plane, or perhaps simply a vastly different plane. Regardless, I experienced, in a sort of overwhelming kind of sensory/memory overload, what exactly it meant to follow a path other than humanity. I was intrigued and horrified at the same time – not just because of what I was seeing of this beings existence, but also because unlike with Therese, I could actually comprehend some of what I was seeing. Perhaps it was because of the time I'd spent with so many eyes, allowing me to more effectively process an overwhelming multitude of information simultaneously. Or perhaps it was simply because the Leader was not nearly as old as Therese, had not experienced nearly as much, absorbed nearly as many lives. Regardless, I lovingly lapped up every drop that passed my lips.

The stream of vitae was cut off. I desperately gasped for more – I'd gotten just enough blood to give me life and energy, but not enough to chase away the desperation of frenzy. Like a fish struggling out of water, my mouth mutely popped open and closed, even as my tongue hungrily licked every drop off my lips.

"That's enough for now, fledgling. We want to keep you alive, not show you a good time. This is no Camarilla feeding salon, after all. So tell me, young one – do you still wish for life, knowing full well that you will be transformed permanently into something equally inhuman ere we are completed with our work here? For the effects of Vissicitude do not vanish over the course of the day – they remain until altered by another application of the discipline. So, knowing that what you look like, all aspects of your external appearance, that which allows others to recognize you – all external manifestations of your identity will be cast aside – do you still wish to live?"

Bolstered by my sire's reassurances, I felt no fear any longer – nothing they could do to me would be any worse than what had been done, and I was certain of a way out. Though I was kneeling before them, bound and helpless, I felt as though I was standing tall. I liked to think that Serena would have been proud of me. "Yes, I wish to keep surviving. I'm going to get through this, and I will come through unbroken. Appearance is just that – a surface appearance. I wasn't even that connected to the way I looked. But you won't break my spirit, my soul. Who I am is stronger than anything you can do to me. I have a source of strength you can't understand – I have something that can answer prayers."

The Leader narrowed his eyes and looked deeply into my eyes. "Really? I assume at this point you've abandoned God... or have you?"

I narrowed my eyes right back at him. "Who and what I pray to is my business. But yes, I know better than to ask for salvation when I'm already damned... provided there ever was a God in the first place, provided he was ever anything more than the desperate delusion of helpless mortals trying to grasp a supernatural world they couldn't understand."

"Ha! You Cam types almost always fall either neatly into the categories of atheist or devout goody-two -shoes believer. But you acknowledge that there are spirits in this world that are more powerful than us, that are worth praying to because they can actually produce results – which means you are at least partially aware of the beginnings of the true nature of this world. So tell me – what spirit do you pray do, and what do they demand in return? There's no point in keeping such information from us. Don't think that all your secrets – including all your knowledge of Thaumaturgy – won't be ours ere the end. We haven't even been asking you questions yet – we've simply been amusing ourselves as a warm-up. While it is of no consequence to me whether or not you volunteer such information, I feel it is only fair to inform you that telling us now will involve much less pain."

I was torn between terror and defiant hate – the pain and the horror still overwhelmed me, but he fury of the Beast and the knowledge of my rescue gave me courage to stand up to them. "I think you'll find that taking things from my mind that I don't want to give up is far more difficult than you imagine."

The Leader simply smiled. "Excellent. I love a good challenge."

The Lizard interjected. "Before we proceed further, I have a request – his fangs are most exquisite. I'd like them for my personal collection."

The Leader's smile spread into a twisted, sadistic grin. "I suppose I can grant that one favor. Hand me the pliers." The Lizard did so dutifully, licking his lips in anticipation the entire time.

As the metal instrument moved towards my mouth, all kinds of childhood terrors of the dentist, of the drills and the fillings and the various instruments being jammed into your mouth as you sit there, putting complete faith in the expert to not screw up and cut your mouth open – they all came to the fore, shoved me into panic, and then passed by the time the pliers touched my fang – after all, it's not like I hadn't been through worse at this point. All sqirming in fear would do is give my tormentors more satisfaction. Even so, the anticipation, as he carefully held the pliers there, staring into my eyes, was nearly unbearable.

He suddenly turned around to face the Lizard. "A warning to those in the first few rows – you _will_ get wet!" With that, he yanked downwards with the force of a truck. It felt far worse than having a tooth pulled – I could feel the fang, feel the way it went all the way up into my skull – directly into my brain, it felt like. It was super-sensitive – I could feel every touch on the fang as though it was on my fingertips, on my eyelids. As he twisted and yanked the fang from side to side, I felt as though some core organ was being ripped out, as though my heart was being twisted in my chest, as though my genitals were being torn off. I couldn't hold back any longer – I screamed out in pain. As I felt root after root break, felt the fang become more and more loose, my screams became louder and louder until I was lost in a world of pain that enveloped my entire face.

Then, with a single yank, my fang was ripped from my face, and blood poured over everything.

The Lizard was laughing with his head thrown back as the Leader fell on his ass and received a blood shower from my mouth. He sat for a moment on the ground, dazed, before quickly getting up and moving back. My blood dripped off his long, greasy hair, ran in rivulets down his face. He looked up at me and grinned, his face hidden by blood-soaked bangs. He held up the fang triumphantly – the thing was ridiculously long, apparently going up into my face about 3 inches, reaching directly into my brain. He handed the spike to the Lizard.

"Sorry," the Lizard apologized. "I wasn't trying to laugh, it's just-"

"Oh no, I find it amusing as well. I'll be more careful with the next one." With that, he moved in once again with the pliers.

… … … … … … …

Nines watched the ghoul drop the meal off with a Gangrel that obviously spent as much time in a state of frenzy as not.

It was a clear that a creature like that wasn't capable of acquiring obedient ghouls – meaning he was a slave to some other Kindred. Nines had seen Sabbat packs do this before – have one or two intelligent Kindred giving orders to mindless footsoldiers. He also knew better than to try a frontal assault on the guard dog – sure, he knew he could take the creature out, but it would also warn whoever was back there – and killing members of a Sabbat pack without killing the leader was like pulling a weed without taking up the root – you've only temporarily taken care of a problem that's going to come back quickly. After all, mindless footsoldiers could be found anywhere – embrace enough poor fools, and you're bound to find _some_ decent grunts.

Nines looked around for another way into the sheltered courtyard. He saw a fire escape ladder leading to the top of the apartment building and decided on an angle of attack.

… … … … … … … …

My mouth was burning in pain, but it was still better than having the fucking hot iron down it. The Lizard was holding two fangs in his hand, looking down at them with a wistful gratitude in his eyes. "Most exquisite specimens. Thank you."

The Leader smiled down patronizingly. "My pleasure. Such relics act as permanent reminders of passing experiences. Now, we've amused ourselves long enough. Time for the interrogation proper." He turned to me and leaned down. "We've only just begun to crack the surface of this mind of yours. Let's go digging deeper inside. Locked inside you are deep secrets waiting to be revealed and unearthed. Let's unlock these treasure chests of truth together, shall we? Let's start with blood magic."

Even though it hurt to move my mouth, I could still speak. I knew my sire could be watching – knew that I only needed to hold out for so long. "I'm not going to say a word – do what you can, you aren't getting anything from me."

The Leader hoisted up a drill and grinned wickedly. "I must say, I find your defiant attitude refreshing and invigorating. Tell me, how much faith do you put in the spirit you pray to? What feats do you believe it capable of? What makes you believe it cares for you at all?"

"I believe it has enough power to save me, and I believe it cares about me because its survival depends on my own. I'm not a person of faith – I recognize that everything has limits – both my tormentors and saviors."

The Lizard eyed me askance. "You mean you have bound a spirit to your will and life? Commanding a servant isn't exactly praying."

"This spirit is far older and wiser than me. I owe it my existence – and when I have no other hope, no other options, I know she will be there for me." I realized, at that moment, what a powerful source of hope and endurance the presence of my sire was.

The Leader perked up. "We shall see what this being is capable of shortly. If you desire salvation from torment ere you break, I recommend that you begin praying for your spirit to act expeditiously." With that, he turned the power drill on.

A shot rang out, clear and loud.

The Leader was knocked back a solid yard, almost flying onto his back.

I turned, trying to see where the shot came from. A figure was standing on top of the apartment building, gun in hand.

The Lizard hissed in fury and pulled a semiautomatic weapon from its side.

The figure flew forward in a blur. As he moved through the air like a streak, a shot rang out and the weapon flew from the Lizard's hand.

Nines Rodriguez landed with a hard _thud_ directly next to me, his namesake weapons in both hands.

The Beast spun and snarled, unaware of what was going on but getting into attack mode all the same. The Lizard bared his teeth and the spikes on the end of his fingers began to extend. The Leader, however, began backing up slowly, eying Nines the entire time.

I looked up at him with desperate hope. _Thank you, Serena. If I escape from this, I swear I'll obey __everything you ever tell me._

"_I know you will, dear. You're far too intelligent to do otherwise. Do try and avoid these kinds of situations in the future, however."_

The leader spoke up, growling at his assailant. "There's three of us, Rodriguez! What exactly do you plan on doing?"

Nines didn't say a word. He simply stared, with clear blue eyes that seemed to pierce like knives, that spoke of volumes of confidence and power. He slowly, almost casually patted something hanging from his belt. I realized what it was right as my tormentors did – a grenade.

The Lizard hissed and backed up. The Beast growled and began to advance until the Lizard held him back, hand on his shoulder.

The Leader snarled. "He's a Cam agent, Rodriguez. Tonight he blows up our warehouse... who's to say he won't be blowing up the Last Round tomorrow night?"

Nines continued staring, implacable, expressionless. "It doesn't matter why I'm doing this. This is Anarch territory. Around here, I can do what I want, for any reason I see fit. If you want to live to see another night, I suggest you get out of my domain – now."

The Leader was now openly furious. "This isn't over, Rodriguez!" He turned to me, open frustration now written on his face. "Same goes for you, runt. The Sabbat will find you, and we will break you. Tonight was only a taste of what's to come." With that, he backed off and headed towards the gate, with his pack reluctantly in tow.

Nines looked down at me with the same cold stare he had regarded the Sabbat pack with. For a moment, I was afraid he might decide that the Sabbat was right, that I was a Cam agent. Then he spoke. "That's two you owe me, newb." He reached down and, with superhuman strength, he untwisted the iron rebar that was binding my wrists. I struggled to free myself from the remaining handcuffs. I was beginning to feel the chains give, beginning to be free for the first time in what felt like an eternity, when I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye. I opened my mouth to say something, only to have Nines spin to face the threat before I could get a sound out.

Everything seemed to slow to a crawl. The Leader was rushing towards us from the gate, moving at superhuman speed, wooden stake in hand. Nines faced him, nonplussed, almost casually. In an instant, both guns were in his hand, and as he stood his ground like a sentinel, fixed and unmoving, his hands, his guns moved in an incomprehensible blur. I watched as the bullets impacted my tormentor's neck, watched as piece after piece was blasted off by the high-powered handguns. The blur moved right up next to Nines and stopped there for a moment. The Leader and Nines stared down one another for only an instant, but it felt like an eternity. Then Nines fired both weapons and blasted the remaining pieces of the Leader's neck away. His head tumbled off his body like a ball, even bouncing once as it hit the ground, stupefied expression fixed on his face. The body fell onto me even as it was blasted to ash, filling every nerve with a burning sensation that would have bothered me once, but really seemed like a small, insignificant thing after what I'd been through. I watched as his head was burned away to nothingness, watched as his disbelieving eyes ashed away to reveal the eye sockets behind them, and then watched as the skull dissipated into nothing. _I guess I kind of wanted to live more than you, seeing as how you just threw your life away._

"Nice effort," Rodriguez told the Leader as he burned away. "Execution is a little off," he finished as the Leader turned to ash. Turning, he looked at the gate and saw the Lizard staring at him. The Lizard realized he was being stared back at. With a start, he turned and fled.

Nines looked down at me once again, his eyes still cold but now filled with twinges of pity and empathy. He reached down and unbound me, untwisting the rebar, ripping the handcuffs in half. I gently rubbed my wrists, reveling in the feeling of freedom. _I thought I'd never be free again... I thought that the rest of my existence would be nothing but what those monsters allowed me to experience. And not only that, I'm free of the blood bond to the Leader... hell, after everything I've escaped from, the servitude I was bound to before, with LaCroix, seems immensely benevolent in comparison._

Funny, that I should be thinking of servitude and freedom right as I met the hero of the Anarch movement. "You look like shit," Nines commented as I pushed myself up, my muscles so weak that they could barely support me, as I shook in shock from the aftereffects of my torture.

I chuckled at that, considering how I would have looked to him if he'd come just a minute before. "I've looked worse. At least I'm in one piece and still look roughly human." I stood up and extended a hand to my rescuer. "Name's Lucius. Lucius Marshall."

Nines gave me a small grin and took my hand. "Nines Rodriguez. C'mon, kid. We should get you to a safe place. The Last Round is where I'm headed, if you wanna follow me. If you want to head out on your own, that's your call."

I shuddered at the thought of running into another Sabbat pack. I was ready to follow Nines anywhere. "God, no. I'm following you. I mean, I knew downtown LA was supposed to be bad, but geez, I didn't realize there were full medieval torture chambers set up in back alleys."

Nines looked down coldly at the pit of coals. "There weren't, once. Times have changed." He looked up and started heading towards the gate. I followed, grabbing my shirt and jacket from the ground and putting them on – my new suit had been wrecked, but it was still intact. "Let's get some blood in you. There's a good spot a few blocks from here near this dive bar. Just follow my lead when we get there and try to not screw up."

I rubbed my mouth. "I know how to feed myself. Let me just get to work on regrowing the fangs they pulled out and I'll be alright."

Nines chuckled as we exited the courtyard and hit the streets. "You know, kid, I gotta hand it to you, you've got staying power – maybe even enough to keep yourself in once piece."

"I sure as hell hope so." With that, we silently walked off into the night.


	27. Chapter 26: The Battle of Los Angeles

**Hello again, loyal readers! I've done my best to get this chapter out as fast as I could, but school has started and it's a miracle this is done as quickly as it was (and by miracle I mean GPA-destroying distraction.) Honestly, I'm probably going to be slowing down a bit as school is really starting to pick up. That being said, I felt bad leaving you readers with such a terrifying and unsettling chapter – as intense as it was, and as much fun as I have abusing Lucius, the poor guy does deserve a break now and again.**

**Flying Frog – I'd hate to Lucius in general, but in that chapter especially. You're right in that he's going to be a lot tougher and self-assured after that encounter – a bit emotionally scarred, too... though that won't manifest right away. More importantly, he's found out what he can really emotionally cling to in harsh times (the desire to learn stuff... yeah, like that's going to sustain you through hell, Lucius.) As for learning Jyhad and being manipulated... heh, just read the chapter.**

**Rednightmare – Why bother writing a response to your review? We could just discuss it when we meet up next time. Isn't life freaking surreal? Ah well, these responses are practically tradition at this point. I'm quite flattered my cast of antagonists were so grating and got under your skin so much – that's what I was going for, truly hateful individuals (unlike the in-game Sabbat pack that grabs you, which I found to be extremely amusing and likeable.) The Sabbat lifestyle is horrendous, harsh, and dehumanizing, and these abominations are the product of that. And yeah, the writing is a bit pulpy, focusing on the raw, grotesque horror of the whole thing – but hey, that's part of what makes this chapter fun, in a 'give yourself the heebie-jeebies' kinda way. That's also why I made this Sabbat pack so terrifying – it's the freak-out horror aspect and over-the-top gore-spatter that kinda make Bloodlines so enjoyable in the first place – along with the well-developed characters, fascinating plotlines, paranoid machinations, and... well I could go on forever, here. Oh, and you made your feelings towards Nines and his particular brand of populism abundantly clear in BB – which is why you may want to kill Lucius after this chapter. **

**And yes, fleshcrafting is absolutely disgusting – hell, I don't think the word disgusting does it justice, but I can't think of a strong enough synonym at the moment. Just stop and think about what's really, truly possible with viccisitude for a minute. Really dwell on that. Okay, now good luck not having nightmares for awhile. *cue evil, villainous laughter***

**LaCroix (to Lucius): "Come here and give your granddaddy a hug!" **

...

I wandered through the dark streets with Nines, healing my fangs in silence.

I felt the burning and the itching as I regrew them from scratch, but at this point pain of any kind had been relegated to a barely noticeable background sensation. I was far too distracted by my own thoughts to notice, anyway.

I thought carefully about what I'd been through, about what I'd been turned into – about what it all meant. _My god... I still can't believe what happened was real. My mind keeps trying to blank out the memories, to push it aside. I don't think I'll ever forget that pain – or the horror of what I was turned into. Would I have wanted to keep existing even if I'd been stuck like that? I mean, I'd basically be unable to show my face in public any more. Then again, the Nosferatu have to deal with that constantly. Even so, having to exist like that... so many eyes... I don't know how I would have dealt __with that type of information overload, that kind of sensory wreckage... I would have found a way. I would have had to. If that whole ordeal taught me anything, it's that I have more than just my life in my hands. I may not feel like existing any longer, but I don't have the right to stop – I owe Serena my existence. _I had found the pillar I would cling to in tumultuous times.

Nines stopped across the street from a small, run-down bar. I followed his lead, leaning casually against the nearby building, scanning the patrons as they drunkenly exited the door. Nines pulled a cigarette out as cover for us just standing there, and I reached into my pocket to grab one of my own. That's when I realized my pants pockets were empty.

"Son of a bitch! They actually robbed me? As though torturing me wasn't enough..." I quickly checked all my pockets.

"What did they grab?" Nines asked nonchalantly.

"Thankfully just my wallet and my cigarettes." Nines casually handed me one of his. "Goddamnit... all the money LaCroix gave me, gone like that." I lit the cig and felt calming waves come over me, helping get over this insult that had been thrown on my injuries.

Nines took a slow puff on his cigarette before speaking. "What's he paying you for, exactly?"

"You know that Sabbat warehouse in Santa Monica that got blown up? That was me. Of course, it's not like I had a choice in the matter – it was made pretty clear to me if I left Santa Monica before that was taken care of, I was as good as dead. Still, at least I got _some_ kind of reward for that shit."

"How much you get paid for pulling that stunt off?"

"A thousand," I replied.

A small smirk worked it's way onto Nines' face. "Honestly, kid, LaCroix ripped you off. That job was worth ten grand, easy. And that kind of cash wouldn't even mean anything to LaCroix. He's just underpaying you to keep you down. C'mon, this couple looks like good food. Follow casually, follow my lead."

We followed a drunken couple that was completely enraptured in one another. We followed them at a distance of about a block. Every so often, the woman would stumble because of her heels, and the man would grab her, then receive a kiss in return for his efforts. I could see why Nines picked these two – more than being drunk, they were heavily distracted by each other. _Even so, we're going to have to __close the distance eventually..._

Right as they took a detour into a more secluded alley, Nines turned to me and explained the plan. "I'm gonna rush up, grab the guy, and feed. You run behind me as fast as you can and get the woman." With that, he became a blur, flashing ahead into the alley in a mere moment. I started running as fast as my feet could carry me, eager to test out my newly regrown fangs and sate my thirst. I heard the woman scream after a second, obviously reacting to Nines. I burst into the alley and caught a hilarious sight – Nines was hunched over the man, feeding, while the woman was desperately but ineffectually trying to beat his back with her purse, screaming at him to stop. I ran up to her and plunged my fangs into her neck – the easiest meal I've ever grabbed.

The feeding was as satisfying as it was empowering – it felt amazing to be feeding myself, rather than being fed, to know my fangs worked again, to know I could empower myself. I felt vitality and power flow into me, and I felt confidence fill my mind, reminding me of my supernatural strength. I was so wrapped up in the pleasure I nearly forgot to pull out – but I remembered before I killed the poor woman. I dropped her limp form on the ground.

"You know she's gonna need to go to the hospital since you drained her that much, right?"

I looked up at Nines. He had gently sat his meal down in the alley. I wasn't in the mood to be lectured about my feeding habits. _**That was worth every drop**_. "Look, I just got out of a Sabbat torture session. I was famished. Honestly, I don't care if she ends up needing medical care – she'll survive, and maybe this will teach her not to wander around shady back alleys at night. Hell, she's lucky – some Sabbat could have found her, and I'm pretty sure they'd just drain her dry."

I was expecting Nines to be angry at my rebuke – but instead he smiled at my response. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, kid. Just making sure you understand what you're doing, that's all. C'mon, let's get to the Last Round."

I smiled and followed, realizing that standing up to Nines had probably earned me some respect from him. As we walked, I reflected on the power I now felt, the invigoration from the blood – I hadn't felt this overwhelmed by the sense of strength since the first time I'd fed. _Why? Because of my helplessness when the Sabbat had me? Perhaps... or perhaps it's simply my awareness of just how much I can survive, just what I can go through and keep going, how truly fucked up I can become and still heal everything. I never really appreciated how supernaturally powerful I'd become until now – my body can be literally brought to the brink of oblivion, burned, vivisected, and ripped apart, and I can still put myself back together as long as I come through it and have blood. I suppose this whole ordeal has made me immensely enduring. Yeah... I'm not going to dwell on it as a tragedy or anything – it was an ordeal, I survived, and I'm stronger now._ Even so, my mind was still trying to blank out what had happened. I needed to think about anything else.

My desired distraction appeared in the form of a run-down bar – the Last Round. The small concrete edifice with barred windows looked like it had been through a hurricane – or a war. Even so, it was pretty much in one piece, despite a few missing chunks of concrete here and there. I followed Nines inside, reflecting on the juxtaposition between the Anarch's headquarters and the Camarilla's – and the vast differences between their respective leaders.

Angry, blasting punk assaulted me as soon as I walked through the doors. The dimly-lit place looked like it had been trashed so many times that cleaning had been abandoned as futile – and yet, there was an order to the place. To the right was a small stage with two massive speakers that were blasting the soundtrack, and an open area covered in empty beer bottles and cans. To the left was a bar with a few patrons – old grizzled biker types by their looks – all of whom seemed to be quietly nursing their drinks, except for one who was chatting up the bartender – she looked to be in her mid-thirties, with tanned skin that was on its way to becoming leathery, dark black hair, and a black leather midriff top and miniskirt.

The patrons looked up briefly, recognized Nines, and went back to nursing their drinks, ignoring us. We went straight past the bar to an unmarked, pockmarked steel door. Nines pulled out three different keys to open massive locks. The door opened into a small hallway ending in a stairway leading up. A spunky woman Kindred was sitting on a bench next to the door, scowling at the doorway. Her bright red hair matched her communist beret perfectly – though my eyes were drawn to her huge tits at first. I quickly pulled my eyes up to hers, though – I could tell right away that this was not someone to be fucked with. She positively exuded hostility.

Even so, when she saw Nines her face lit up into a smile. "Nines!" She quickly composed herself, though, and put a look on her face like that of a soldier making a report. We walked in, the door slamming shut behind us. Her eyes darted over me, then flicked back to Nines. "Everything's been fine here. I didn't expect you to be back from patrol so soon. Is everything on point?"

Nines nodded. "I picked up the trail of a Sabbat pack. Found them holed up in a makeshift torture chamber in the courtyard of some apartment building, right at the intersection of Fourth and Lorena. I took out the head of the pack and drove them out, but send in a team to make sure they stay gone – and to clean up the mess they left behind." She nodded eagerly. "They were working over this newb – he was in a bad way, but they didn't do too much damage, by the looks of things."

I extended my hand. "Lucius. Lucius Marshall."

She just looked at my hand for a second, then, "Damsel," was all she said to me. She turned back to Nines. "So why's he here? He trying to join us?"

Nines shrugged. "I haven't asked. He's here because I want to talk to him. He's the one from the theater, remember?" Damsel thought for a second, then nodded. "Make sure that apartment complex is secured by the time I come back down." Damsel nodded, then immediately pulled out her cell phone and began barking orders. I followed Nines up the stairs.

I was a little put off by the whole place – right up until I saw Jack, leaning against a bloodstained table, smoking a cigar.

"Jack!" He looked up, squinted at me for a second, before recognition hit him and he broke out into a big grin.

"Luke! Good to see you're still alive. How's your new life been treating ya?"

It felt so great, seeing the first Kindred who'd ever tried to help me, the guy who showed me the ropes, the basics of survival. I wanted to spill everything then and there – how much shit I'd been through, how I could barely fathom what I was any more, but also how much I'd accomplished, how comfortable I was with my new existence and powers. Instead, I settled for, "It's been a fucking rollercoaster. I can't even – it's been crazy. That's all I can say without ranting."

Nines looked at Jack curiously. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah, sorta," Jack replied. "I ran into him right after that show with the suit and the gorilla and the beheading. Showed him the basics – you know, feeding, the Beast, that kind of shit. Dragged his ass through that Sabbat raid in one piece, too."

Nines chuckled. "Seems like he keeps having problems with them. I just dragged him out of a Sabbat torture chamber."

"No shit? Damn, Luke – I woulda thought you'd have figured out to steer clear of them after last time."

I grinned sheepishly. "I tried. They came after me. I think they were a little upset that I blew up their warehouse in Santa Monica."

Jack laughed at that. "I heard you were the one that put on that little fireworks show. Nice work. Gotta love anything that kills shovelheads and keeps things interesting in this town." That praise from him meant almost as much as praise from my sire – I all but beamed at his compliment.

Nines was looking at me curiously. "What was that you called him, Jack? Luke? Cause he told me his name was Lucius."

"Oh, er... Luke was my mortal name. I changed it. I was still calling myself Luke when I met Jack."

"Ah," was all Nines said. He wandered over to a nearby wall and leaned himself against it, casually relaxing. I took a moment to look around for the first time. The place looked like a biker bar in a war zone. The tables were wooden, pockmarked and shredded in places, and covered in blood. The windows were blown out and bricked up, with steel cages over the concrete. Jack was now sitting on a chair, casually sipping a mug of blood. A pool table sat upended against the far wall. A black Kindred was leaning against the far wall, staring at me in interest.

"Why'd you change your name?" the black Kindred asked.

"Um, well, it's a little silly, but... it goes back to the biblical origins of the name Luke – like, the apostle Luke? See, Luke was originally a roman centurion named Lucius." Jack yawned. Worried that I was boring this tough crowd with my academic ramblings, I hurried. "He changed his name when he was saved, so I figured I'd just do the reverse, since I'm undead and damned and fallen and all."

To my surprise, I got a positive response from the black Kindred. "That's pretty deep, man. A lot of Kindred don't take the time to study the ancient truths – they're just wrapped up in the glamor and power of being undead. Name's Skelter."

He walked over to me and extended his hand. I took it gladly, feeling almost giddy at his praise. I could hardly believe how friendly, how welcoming everyone here was – they all seemed so tough, so experienced, and yet so open. They were completely different from the paranoid, conniving Kindred I'd encountered so far. I felt safe here, almost like it was a home – there was just this intense feeling of welcome. It would be awhile before I came to understand the nature of Presence, so I assumed these feelings to be genuine at the time. "Lucius. Nice to meet you. So what ancient truths are you referring to, exactly? Biblical truth?" I wanted to understand where this guy was coming from – was he a scholar, some kind of religious fanatic, or was he coming from an entirely different point of view?

He got an intense look in his eyes. "The story of Caine. The father of all Kindred. The hidden truth of the origin of our kind. Didn't your sire explain any of it to you?"

A lump caught in my throat – after everything I'd been through, the memory of losing Serena still hurt like a salted wound. I stared back at Skelter, a sunken look in my eyes. The memory triggered recognition in my mind – this guy had been at the theater, whispering in Nines' ear. "She was killed immediately following my embrace. I had about ten seconds of being a Kindred before I had a stake jammed in my heart and I was dragged to the theater where they killed her. You were there for her death, remember?"

Sympathy opened up onto Skelter's face. I felt it embrace me like a warm friend. "Sorry for bringing that up, man. The executions LaCroix does for siring without his permission – it's bullshit. Before he came along, we were all free to sire as we wanted. If LA was still a free city, your sire would still be alive." I nodded emphatically, seeing once again the injustice of the whole situation – making me realize just how far down I'd buried my hate for LaCroix. I felt my anger roar back into life like a rekindled fire. _And why did I let him use me? Fear? I've been through hell. I've endured far worse than anything he could do to me. Still... no point in getting myself killed. But with the help of these allies... maybe I have a chance at getting out from under his thumb._

"Fuck LaCroix," I mumbled, throwing caution to the wind, no longer caring after everything I'd been through – and after all, I seriously doubted anyone here was gonna rat me to LaCroix, anyway.

"What was that?" Skelter asked.

"Fuck LaCroix!" I shouted, nights of pent-up rage and frustration blasting out of me.

Jack chuckled, while Nines grinned. Skelter smiled and patted me on the back. "Hell yeah! Fuck LaCroix! Here, kid, let me get you a drink." He grabbed a couple of blood-filled beer bottles off a nearby table and handed me one. Skelter gestured to a nearby chair. "Sit down, Lucius. Make yourself at home – you're among friends here." I gladly obliged, relaxing, falling into a pattern of social acceptance. I already felt like I was a part of this group – like these were already my friends. Ah, naivete.

I could taste the alcohol as soon as the blood hit my tongue and I loved it. I immediately fell into relaxation mode. "Thanks, Skelter. Thank you all. I owe everyone here a debt – hell, Nines, you and Jack both saved my life." I nodded to Jack and Nines in turn. "I wish there was some way I could pay you all back..."

The bar echoed with deafening silence as the response to my offer remained unstated – _help the Anarch cause if you want to get them back. And I gladly would, except... except... there is my clan to consider..._ Skelter broke the silence. "Don't worry about it, man. Like I said, you're among friends. So sit back, relax, and drink with us." I complied gladly.

"So," Skelter began after I had a chance to guzzle as much drunk blood as I could down in a single chug, "you wanted to know about the true, secret history of the Kindred? The one the Camarilla keeps hidden so we won't know the truth?" I nodded, eager to absorb more knowledge. "Alright," Skelter began, eagerness written on his face. "Well, you know the story of Cain and Abel, right?"

I nodded, skepticism creeping into my enthusiasm. "Yeah – the story from the Bible."

"Yeah. Caine, man. Father of all vampires. Killed his brother Abel and was cursed by God to walk eternity, feeding on the blood of his children. Heavy shit, man. Our kind's weaknesses – weakness to sunlight, weakness to fire, the need for blood – these were all curses God put on Caine and his progeny – us, the vampire race."

I thought about this for a second. _Let's assume I bought this – which I don't,as it requires believing the Bible. But even so, there just seems something... off about this... I know I'm meant to be a predator... it doesn't seem like a curse – though, one could view this kind of existence that way._ "Then why does being a Kindred feel so great? Why am I so at home with being a predator? I mean, you'd think this would hurt more if it was a curse and all. And why am I cursed because Caine decided to kill his brother, anyway?"

Skelter sighed, a little annoyed, but continued on patiently, like a parent explaining something to a slow child. "You've got to understand, Kindred – you're carrying a six-thousand-year-old curse in your veins, no matter how powerful it makes you feel. That blood is a tangle of chains that's gonna leave you bound for the rest of your existence."

I'd always thought of my blood as empowering – this made no sense. "What do you mean? How is our blood – the source of all our supernatural strength and power, something that gives us way more freedom than we had as a human – a tangle of chains?"

Skelter narrowed his eyes and stared intently. "The elders control the blood, they command the blood. You'll never even hear their call – but the blood will, and it will make you obey."

I didn't want to believe, but I thought back to Therese, and the power her blood still had over me... to say nothing of what my clan was trying to bind me into. "So what are you saying? That I was in a blood bond from the moment I was embraced? To who? What do they want?"

I saw sympathy write itself onto his face. "That shit stretches all the way back to Caine, man. Nothing you can do. Some Ancient sleeping in a tomb half a world away has a bad dream, and you're gonna feel that shit, like it or not."

_There's a pleasant thought. _I downed the rest of my drink and contemplated. "Look, sorry to burst

your bubble, but I don't believe in Caine, or Abel, or Adam and Eve. My name was a like a joke, almost poking fun at the concept of biblical truth. I mean... do you really believe in all that? How can you be so sure?"

I watched his eyes narrow as I spoke, and I worried that perhaps I should have played along – I'd become too comfortable, I was being too honest – I should have been figuring out what to say to keep him happy, the way I had been with every Kindred so far. _God I hope I haven't pissed him off... he looks like he could throw me through the wall. _"Keep your voice down!" Skelter whisper-shouted. "Is Caine real? I don't know. Not sure I wanna know."

_Thank god. He's upset, but he's reasonable. And he's not a fanatic – he admits doubt _I downed more of my 'beer.' "Well I'm glad you admit you don't know whether Caine is real or not. And I'll admit that it seems likely, just based on my own experience, that elders of _some_ kind are pulling our strings in ways we don't understand."

"The point is," Skelter continued, composing himself, "with this curse pulling your strings, you really wanna sign away your right to fight by joining the Camarilla?"

"You made it sound like there was no way to fight. So there's a way around the curse? And I assume the Camarilla are all about helping this curse out. Makes sense. I'd imagine the Camarilla is a pretty exclusive elders club."

Jack burst out laughing at that last comment. "Kid, calling the Cam a 'pretty exclusive elder's club' doesn't touch the surface. That's like saying the Sabbat is a _little_ violent and crazy."

Nines spoke up, for the first time since he'd leaned against the wall. "You got the right to know the score. The Camarilla – this is the short of it. They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme." I couldn't help but think of my own clan 'pyramid' at that moment – _what exactly am I trying to sign my freedom and blood away to?_ "There's a bunch of these old timers at the top with god only knows what plots in mind. They lose their power – they die. They sired more to carry out their plans. And looking for their own power, those Kindred sired more of their own – and so on and on and on. It hurts my head just thinking about the mess. What it works out to is this: only a few people at the top have any real power. The rest... the rest are just their pawns, being played in a game that stretches back centuries, whether they know it or not."

_Is that always the case? I mean..._ "Do you think anyone ever embraces out of passion? They find someone they truly admire and want to take them into eternity with them?"

Nines' cold eyes bored into me. "I know for a fact it happens... but Childer tend to assume their sires did it out of "love" way more often than it actually happens."

I looked down, ashamed at his obvious implications. "Well, I'm just saying, my sire obviously knew she was breaking the rules and embraced me anyway, which makes no sense if I was just some tool to carry out her schemes..." but there was a nagging doubt, building in the back of my mind, that that's exactly what I was, a tool she was posthumously using, a puppet whose strings she was pulling because she was now gone and needed to act through me... _God, listen to yourself. She died to embrace you, and this is how you repay her? She carefully guides and protects you, binds her very existence to you... and this is how you think of her? No, Nines may be right about most Kindred, but Serena and I are different. _"I know my sire saw something in me. It doesn't make sense for me to be part of some plot. She wasn't interested in politics, anyway – she was a scholar and a mystic, she wanted to understand things – just like me. I think _that's_ why I was embraced, actually."

Nines just shrugged. "Whatever you say, kid. You knew your sire, not me. Not anyone, really. Like most of your clan, she wasn't interested in talking to the rest of us. She talk to you much while you were alive?"

I wistfully was pulled back to my old memories, to the wondrous time between my dull, monotonous life and my terrifying, tortuous unlife. "Yeah. She was constantly teaching me about the other side of the veil, teaching me to look past the mundane and see the world beyond, to realize the possibilities of the ethereal. And not just how to see – how to touch it, control it. The power of ancient symbols, carved into the temples of babylon, written into the sacred geometry of the universe..."

Skelter spoke up. "And how are you so sure that there's nothing sacred about some of this 'sacred geometry,' huh? Just sayin', you seem so sure nothing in the Bible is true."

"Skelter..." I could hear annoyance in Nines' voice.

"C'mon, man. Let the kid defend his beliefs, if he's so sure about them. I ain't telling him what to think. We're just having a discussion."

"Look, I use the term 'sacred' because that's what mortals called it. It really means 'powerful.' There are nexuses of ley lines, places where the barrier between this universe and the next are thin. Supposedly, there are powerful shapeshifting shamans who are really sensitive to that kind of thing and guard the spots jealously."

"You're talking about werewolves," Jack piped in. "I actually remember one saying something about a spirit fountain or some shit, where they could walk to the spirit world. That was right before I shoved a silver knife into his heart. Heh. Interrogating a werewolf – great times, if you can get the jump on one and shackle it up before it transforms and starts ripping your head off. Of course, his tribe wasn't too happy – but, see, they were stuck on the same small island they'd lived on since forever, and I had a ship waiting for me. Pissed them the hell off, sitting on the shore, watching me sail away with half their sacred artifacts."

"But," Skelter interjected, "the power has to come from somewhere. I mean, you acknowledge that there's a spirit world, that human science doesn't explain anything, right?"

"Right... human science is in the dark about a lot of stuff. It's the best explanation for what we let them see. But then, there's Kindred science. I mean, clan Tremere used to be humans that figured out how to make themselves vampires... so they obviously have a scientific explanation for what's going on."

"Yeah," Nines commented, "too bad you have to sell your soul to them to get that secret."

"Yeah... there is that. I guess the silver lining of my sire being executed is that I dodged _that_ particular elder's chain. And you know... I actually might have figured out a way to get the clan to let me into their library without having to join officially." My mind was spinning all kinds of plans... this group had me thinking about freeing possibilities that had been shoved out of my mind until now. At the same time... _Am I just bullshitting these guys, too? Am I bullshitting myself? I don't even know any more... I'm just trying so hard to please every Kindred I encounter, in the hope no one tries to kill me._

Nines raised an eyebrow at me. "How?"

I took a deep breath, not sure I should be sharing this. Then I downed the rest of my alcoholic blood and decided to say 'fuck it,' because whether I actually wanted to join or not, it couldn't hurt to have them think I'm useful. _And this group seems more and more appealing all the time..._ "I had a talk with Strauss, at the chantry. He says that I have to work to earn my way into their little pyramid – you know, it's kinda funny that they're so out there and open about their pyramid scheme, at least. But anyway, he did say that if I earned his partial trust, he'd let me start reading some stuff in the library _before_ I got to officially join their little club. Better than nothing, for sure."

"No kidding," Nines muttered, his eyes wandering to the ceiling, his mind obviously lost in contemplation. Then he looked back at me and spoke up. "What did he want you to do for him in exchange?"

"Figure out what's causing the epidemic and fix it."

Jack burst out laughing. "Oh, that's all? Well, you better get on that. I'm sure you'll knock it out tonight, in between blowing up some Sabbat warehouse and flying to the moon."

"It's probably bullshit – even if you pull it off, he'll probably find some way to back out... but then again, if he didn't mean it, why give you such an impossible task? Whatever." Nines sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"I'm actually willing to try. You know anything about what's going on with this epidemic?"

Nines shook his head. "Damsel's the one looking into it. Talk to her if you want to help us out – we could use a hand. We're pretty sure the Sabbat are responsible for this – the hospital they blew up a couple weeks ago couldn't have made it more obvious."

"I was wondering about the hospital. Makes sense. I'll ask her on the way out. You know..." I wasn't sure how to politely bring this up, so I just out and said it. "Strauss claimed that you guys were responsible – that your feeding habits and passion were causing this to go out of control."

"Typical Cam bullshit," Skelter spat. "Every time the slightest thing gets out of hand, it's always 'oh, well everything's messed up because the Anarchs won't step in line, and the world would be perfect if they just marched in lockstep.' Because, you know, cities the Cam completely control don't have any damn problems. And the Sabbat – oh no, they haven't been losing city after city to them, no way no how. It's all our fault, of course. You know what really pisses me off?" I shook my head, a little taken aback by the rant... I was starting to get a firsthand experience with the 'out of control Brujah passion' Tung had told me about. "They act like they're the only ones capable of holding anything together – that if they don't rule with an iron fist, it'll just be chaos and Sabbat in the streets. Truth is, the Camarilla just ain't necessary. Their rules is just common sense shit. The Masquerade and all that. We enforce our own version of it. Just common sense – like the Ten Commandments." He looked at me derisively. "You know the ten commandments, don't you?"

"Yeah. Believe me, I know way too much about them. Spent most of my childhood studying that bullshit."

Skelter narrowed his eyes and looked at me carefully, as though trying to read me. "Bullshit? What, you think they don't make sense? And if you used to be so interested in studying this stuff, what drove you away from it?"

I was getting tired of defending my skepticism. "My parents were obsessed with it, and I eventually realized that there are a thousand plot holes and logical fallacies in the Bible. All it takes is a critical, non-worshipful reading of the book. And as for the commandments themselves, half of them are all about worshiping and adoring god, but sure, the rest are common sense social rules. You don't need to have god speaking through a burning bush to figure out that 'thou shalt not kill' and 'thou shalt not steal' are rules you're gonna have to enforce if you want a society that isn't gonna tear itself apart. Most likely some intelligent guy just figured them out, and told the idiotic masses that god told him these were the rules so they'd obey."

"You ever think that maybe there are holes in the story 'cause there are missing pieces? Maybe, instead of giving up on studying when you found out some stuff didn't make sense, you should have kept pushing? Just saying, there's a lot people never find out about. You were talking about how human science is in the dark, and its Kindred science has the answers. Well, maybe human faith exists to keep the 'ignorant masses' in the dark, and it's Kindred faith that holds the _real_ truth"

I was getting pissed now. Memories of my old desperate desire to uncover the "real" truth, when I first realized that the biblical version of events had holes in it – the very desire that had led to my investigations into Lilth, in fact – were creeping back up. I didn't like this doubt – didn't like having being pulled back into an insane faith I'd thrown aside along with obedience to my father. "Yeah, or it could just be different bullshit for different delusional idiots trying to pretend there's a plan behind the world they have to deal with."

"Who you calling a delusional idiot, fledgling?" _Oh shit, I got too pissed off, wasn't thinking, oh fuck I'm gonna get my face smashed in, aren't I? _

"Knock this shit off, Skelter," Nines interrupted. "You don't need to try and convert every fledge that comes up here – it's getting old."

Skelter jutted his jaw out defiantly. "I don't care if he believes or not – I just ain't putting up with being put down."

I tried to quickly backpedal. "Look, I'm not trying to say that about you, I just-"

"Then who you trying to say it about, huh? Your parents? You stop and think maybe your problem with God is just some problem you had with them?"

That one hit deep. I'd always had a sneaking doubt in my mind... _no, I know what makes sense, what's logical._ I couldn't help but think back to my father, strict and cruel – all in the name of making me into a good, god-fearing person. When I'd stepped out from the shadow of his belief system, he'd nearly disowned me. He'd barely spoken to me after that, except to try and convert me back. It had been my mother who'd continued to help – who'd told me that as long as I loved my fellow man and stayed on the right track, that's what really mattered. _And what if he'd been right? Look at you now, an undead, murderous monster – one of the dammed and fallen._ I shoved these these thoughts from my head violently and focused on responding – I realized I'd been spacing out, focusing on my own head.

Nines saved me the trouble. "_Enough_, Skelter. There are plenty who would question _your_ beliefs, but we're all tolerant of each other here." Skelter closed his mouth, pursing his lips in anger, seething. I smiled wickedly at his unease. Nines grabbed another blood-filled beer bottle and handed it to me.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm going to the bar to get a drink. You kids have fun bitching at each other." With that, he got up and left.

The room was silent for awhile, Skelter and I both embarrassed that we'd driven Jack away. Nines broke the silence. "We're all free to speak our mind here, all free to believe what we want as long as we respect each other. The Cam, on the other hand... they claim that their members are free to believe what they want – as long as your beliefs don't happen to involve being free from the elders or making your own way as a Kindred, away from their plots and manipulations."

Skelter chimed back in. "The anarchs – we're the only ticket you got to free livin' in the afterlife."

I chugged away on the blood, letting this all sink in. Sure, Skelter had been obnoxious – but I was free to argue with him, we were all free to think and say as we liked. _Doesn't mean I have to like Skelter... or anyone here, for that matter. I just have to want to speak my mind freely. Which I clearly couldn't do around LaCroix. Or even around Strauss, for that matter._ "I hear you. Honestly, Skelter, I'm not even that upset – I just got so comfortable here, I just started speaking my mind and going off. This is the first time since my embrace that I felt like I could just say what I wanted, instead of having to tailor every word to what would please someone else. I mean, I honestly when I was up in LaCroix tower, I was terrified that if I said one wrong word, made one wrong gesture, he'd just have his fucking monstrosity lop my head off like he did my sire."

Skelter spit on the ground. "See, we weren't meant to live like that. Man, I followed someone else's rules for three years in Vietnam, but it wasn't until after the embrace that I understood real oppression."

"Shit, I got a serious taste of tyranny as soon as I was embraced. I guess that's why I've been so terrified of LaCroix. But, I mean, why does he get away with that kind of thing? Who decided that LaCroix was in charge, anyway? Has he been running things here for like, forever, or what?"

"LaCroix?" Nines burst into the conversation, all but seething. "Shit. LaCroix's just the guy who backstabbed and wheeled-and-dealed his way into becoming head son-of-a-bitch of all the local Camarilla. He's just the tool the system sent out here to retake LA from the free Kindred of this city. Him and any o' the other Cam traitors that come here wanting power will get what's due."

"Wait a second," I interjected. "Retake LA? I got the sense that the Cam has been running things since... forever. I mean, they are a club of undead elders and all..."

"The Camarilla was kicked out on their ass from the west coast a long time ago. We, the Anarchs, didn't want to play their politics and games. Now LaCroix and crew pop in like they never left – uh-uh, no way! Their laws don't apply to us. That stuck-up snob may have bought his way into his tower, but if he comes around here on the streets trying to throw his weight around, he's gonna have a lot of pain coming his way."

I couldn't help but smile at that mental image - Nines beating the living shit out of LaCroix. "I'd love to be there for that."

Skelter piped in. "You and a lotta Kindred in this town."

Nines was all but seething now. "LaCroix represents everything I hate – the Camarilla, stuck-up aristocrats, rich businessmen, crooked politicians – the only place LaCroix belongs is in an urn."

_And wouldn't I just love to help make that happen... _I was being pulled into the Anarch mindset more and more, feeling my fear and submission melt away, replaced by self-confidence and pride... dangerous, reason-destroying levels of both. The alcohol was helping along this emotional path, and I downed a little more. "So how do we go about putting him there? I mean, I figure you've got, like, a battle plan. How do I help? Cause I'm seriously done with LaCroix's bullshit." Presence is a powerful and insidious discipline, as I would learn time and time again in my nights spent in the city of raving revolutionaries and manipulative poseurs. Not to say the Anarchs don't have _some_ good points, though...

I could see a smile creep onto Nines' face, before he steeled himself, his expression becoming hard and serious. "I learned the way of this world during the depression. A bunch of old, rich bastards screwed this country. But did they suffer? No. The little people suffered. Can't trust the people at the top. This world would be a better place without 'em." I nodded in agreement, drawn along with his narrative. "All you can do is get together some people who aren't assholes, find a place to put your feet down, and make some examples of the quote-unquote 'elite' to keep the rest the hell out. Everyone's an equal here – something this country _used_ to be about. That's what LA has been – an Anarch Free State."

I nodded, feeling drawn into the dream – a world without tyrants, without fear, without absurd responsibilities and hidden machinations, where I could spend eternity however I wanted. "Sounds like an impossible dream. I wish... I mean, you really believe that you can stand against power? Like, isn't there going to be some kind of power structure? Aren't you in charge of the Anarchs?"

_That _pissed Nines off. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and _now _I felt real fear. "I'm not in charge of shit, you got that? You suggest otherwise, you're risking a beatdown." I nodded and swallowed. "The only Kindred that follow my orders are the ones that choose to. I fought to keep LA free since I was embraced. Long time later, I'm one of the only ones left that hasn't bit it or switched sides – the most veteran soldier on the battlefield. That's all."

I nodded vigorously, desperate to mollify him. Even so, I couldn't help but notice... _we're all free to speak our minds, provided we don't piss you off. Still, I can understand him getting pissed. I should give the guy a break, he's saved my life._ "I gotcha. Didn't mean any offense. Just trying to understand what's going on, that's all." I downed the rest of my bottle. _Let's see... how can I get him happy again? He likes telling me how things work around here..._ "Any way you could help me figure out how to stay in one piece? I've been getting nothing but BS since I was embraced, except for what Jack's told me."

That calmed him down. "Here's what I tell all the new bloods. One, if you're not careful, that blood will turn you into a monster – but you rampage around here, you get put down. Two, don't kill when you feed. There's no reason to. Plenty of ways to slate the Beast in this city without leaving a trail of dead." That brought up bitter memories of Sherry. _No need to reiterate that lesson._ "Three, the Camarilla's full of shit. Four, watch your back – always. Hope you've learned that one after tonight." I nodded – _lesson learned_. "Which leads to my last point – learn how to fight. Cause a speech ain't gonna save your ass when you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun."

I nodded somberly. "Truth be told, I don't know much about fighting. Okay, I don't know anything. Hell, I don't know much about giving speeches, either. I've been barely getting by so far, sneaking around and just trying to use my head and my blood magic. I don't suppose there's any way you could show me a thing or two about holding my own, is there?"

Nines looked me over dismissively. "After picking your ass off the street there – yeah, I can tell you don't even know the basics. Here, let's spar a little." I held my hands up nervously, suddenly on the spot. Nines entered a fighting stance with perfect confidence. "Hold your hands like this, and hold your body at an angle, makes you harder to hit. Set your feet like this, it keeps you stable, keeps you from getting knocked down or off balance. Keep your thumbs out of your fists. Alright, let's go!" With that, he started swinging.

At first, I got hit – a lot. It felt like fucking iron weights were being smashed into me. I almost panicked at first – but I knew I could deal with worse, and Nines obviously wasn't trying to really hurt me – just teach me. _The pain is just a lesson. _I worked on avoiding his attacks, first just backing up, then dodging. After almost being knocked over a few times, I remembered to stay in the combat stance. Nines would occasionally throw bits of advice. "Put your weight into your punches." "Jab to distract, then go in for a serious strike." "Duck low and weave back and forth."

Once I was exhausted and sore all over, Nines stopped. "Not bad, kid. You still got a ways to go, but you're getting the basics. Here, heal yourself up." I quickly chugged another bottle of blood, focusing on making my everything a little less tender than veal.

"Thanks. Next time the Sabbat try and jump me, they'll be in for a surprise."

Nines smiled. "Hope so. Don't go getting a big head and thinking you're tough shit, though. Those Sabbat were small-time. LA's the school of hard knocks, so keep your friends close, and your enemies in a barbecue pit. Once you square things with LaCroix, don't give that son-of-a-bitch the time of night. I got my eye on you, kid."

I smiled at that – a little uneasily. _Double meaning, there. He'll be looking out for me – but it also means I can't suck up to LaCroix out of necessity without him noticing. But really, was that necessity or cowardice? Do I really need to play his game? _"I'm not gonna out and come out against LaCroix – but make no mistake, I want to see him gone as badly as you."

"I doubt you really want him to ash as bad as me – even with your sire and all. But at least your heart's in the right place. Just remember the way you feel right now – free and proud – when you face him next. See ya round, kid. Don't forget to talk to Damsel – if you were actually serious about helping us out with this epidemic."

"I was. See you around, Nines."

As I began to descend the stairs, Nines stopped me. "Before you go, I've got something for you. A book."

I was intrigued. "What kind of book?"

"The kind that gets you in trouble if the prince finds out you have it. It's the Anarch Manifesto. It's a statement of purpose for our movement and it goes over the history of the free state. It's written by Salvador Garcia, a good Kindred who worked to help out the helpless his whole life and unlife. Now, like I said, just having this book is a big crime in the Cam. Reading it is even worse. I say, we should all be free to read whatever we want, and the hell with anyone that says otherwise. It's up to you to decide if its worth it or not to stand up for your basic rights – you know, freedom of speech – things modern society assumes as common sense, but the elders still consider radical, because when they lived there were kings and peasants and they think it should stay that way forever. So tell, me, Lucius... what do you say? You going to cower in fear of power? Or are you gonna find out what's in here that's so important the Cam wants to kill you for reading it?"

I was overwhelmed with curiosity. I was certain that Nines was pulling my leg on this one, trying to make the tiny pamphlet seem more important than it was... but I had to know. "Yeah, I'll take it. Don't expect me to go around showing it in public, screaming about how we need to throw down the prince or anything."

"Kid, none of us are that stupid – the ones that are don't last long. And look, I don't care if you join us or not." _Bullshit, but whatever._ "I just want to make sure you understand what the score is, and I want to offer you options. Choices. It's up to you whether you choose comfortable slavery or real freedom – just think real hard about what eternity serving the same master, stuck in the same role is gonna be like." With that, he handed me a thin black book with nothing on the cover. I took it and put it in my pocket for later. Nines leaned back up against the wall, lighting another cigarette as I walked downstairs.

I wandered into the alcove, thinking over everything that I'd learned tonight – my whole worldview was starting to change. My introspection lasted for about a second before Damsel shouted at me.

At first, she couldn't see me and assumed Nines was coming down. "Nines! The team just hit the apartment and-" she came around the corner from a small alcove and radiated disappointment when she saw it was just me. "Oh. Sabbat boogeymen chase you down here or something, Cammy?"

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "Cammy?"

Damsel sneered derisively. "That's right – Cammy. As in, little Camarilla bitch. Funny, though, that you bend over backwards for LaCroix, and he can't even stop counting his money long enough to get your back when you're in trouble. So it's Nines that saves your ass – again."

Now I was just confused. "Again? What do you mean?"

Damsel just rolled her eyes and looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. "Cammy, you'd have a whole lot less below your neck if not for Nines calling LaCroix out in that courtroom. Shit. Looks like things worked out for LaCroix anyway – got himself a new errand boy out of it."

That caused a bitter bile to rise up in me – the helplessness of the last few nights had been festering inside me, and after all my time here, it was ready to explode. "Look, I didn't have a fucking choice, okay?"

Damsel just laughed at me. "Sounds like the bullshit excuse of a pathetic, simpering weakling to me. Tell me, how's it feel to be licking the boots of the man who killed your sire? Does it taste like shame? Cause it fucking should."

Maybe it was how deep she was cutting me, maybe it was this place and the defiant attitude Nines was starting to push me to develop, maybe it was all the alcohol I'd consumed – or maybe, it was the simple fact that I had reached the absolute end of my rope and couldn't handle one more person giving me shit. Whatever the reason, I snapped. "What the fuck is your problem?" I screamed at her.

She screamed right back, unfazed. "Oh ho ho, so the little bitch thinks he has a pair! You wanna know what my problem is ? I'll tell you what my problem is! You ready?" I narrowed my eyes at her, sick of taking this kind of shit. "_You_ are my goddamn problem. Anyone that would lay it down for some cape in an ivory tower deserves what they get. And your excuses just make you that much more pathetic."

I was so pissed I was ready to fight her – except... except, she had a point, as much as it hurt to admit it. Didn't mean I had to like the way she was pointing this out – or her, for that matter. "Look, I was just doing what I had to in order to stay alive. I made my own way. Believe me, I'm done doing LaCroix's bullshit for him."

Damsel rolled her eyes. "Ooh, that's real. Easy to say that shit in here. Easy to just say whatever you think will make the people around you happy, like a cowering suckup. You actually gonna grow a real pair and do it? Cause they'll come after you. The Cam considers every Kindred to be a member, whether we choose to be or not. Do something they don't like, if you break one of their rules, well – you're Cam, so that means you broke the law. So you better have the strength to stand your ground if you're gonna call LaCroix out, fledge – cause I can see you crumbling like a house of cards when they start sending _real_ trouble your way."

She actually did make me step back and think. _Do I really want to do this? I came here just to see what the Anarchs are all about – now I'm already jumping to join them. At the same time, if I keep serving LaCroix, I'm liable to get killed. Then again, I'm liable to die either way. Maybe it's better to die free, at least. And... why exactly did he send me out here, anyway? Maybe... maybe to get me to do exactly what I'm doing now? To come out and openly defy him? Fuck... fuck these political games! I'm so sick of this! I almost want to just come out and defy him just so I know where I stand and cut through the bullshit._ "Look, when I do decide to come out an make a stand, I'll hold my ground. Right now, though, doesn't make much sense for me to do that – no when I can be tricking Tremere into giving me blood-magic secrets without having to drink the elder's blood, now does it?"

She looked down her nose at me. "Oh, so that's how you want to help us out? Playing the role of a double-agent? You think that's gonna keep you outta trouble? I got news for you, newb. You fuck _that_ game up, and you're gonna be waaaay worse off than you would have been if you'd wandered into LaCroix's tower with an uzi. Especially tangling with Tremere. But hey, you wanna play with fire, don't come crying to me when you're burned to ash. But tell me this – why the hell should I trust a backstabbing, scheming Tremere in the first place?"

I grinned at her. I actually liked her attitude – no bullshit, no hidden agendas, no manipulation, just in-your-face attitude and stark honesty. I decided to throw some back at her. "Well, right now you don't know me, so you'd be stupid if you did. Just know I'm not bound to the elder's will with that ritual the rest of my clan is stuck to – LaCroix offing my sire actually saved me from that. Big mistake on his part – though it makes sense now that I know the decision to let me live was impromptu, because of Nines calling him out in front of everyone. But anyway, here's the best part – you get to work with me for a while and get to know me. So you can judge me for yourself."

She looked at me askance. "The fuck you talking about, Cammy?"

"Tremere wants me to look into solving the epidemic – they see it as me working to earn the right to be enslaved into their pyramid. However, larger point is, they offered me the chance to look through their libraries _before _I get inducted if I pull this off. And Nines tells me you're the one to talk to about helping out with that."

"Ugh" She rolled her eyes. "When I told him I could use some help on this, this isn't what I meant."

"Sorry Damsel, looks like you're short staffed, so I'm all you got. To be fair, investigations and research are actually a strong suits of mine."

"Whatever, Cammy." Then she was all business. "So what do you know about this mess?"

"I know the basics of the symptoms, I know it's killing people, and I know everyone, Kindred and kine, is freaking out about it. That's it."

She looked at me incredulously. "So you don't even know that we've got a plaguebearer running around?"

"Plaguebearer? What's that?"

"I thought you Tremere were supposed to be smart. Think about the word, Cammy. What do you think it means? A plaguebearer's a fool who doesn't care who they feed from. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, we can't get sick – but the kine can, and the Kindred that feed from them start spreading disease. Enough get sick, it's an epidemic. CDC's in town as we speak."

_Already knew that, but whatever. So Plaguebearer's a fancy term for what I thought was going on anyway._ "So what's the plan?"

"You seen 'old yeller?' Cruel but necessary. Someone puts together two and two as to the real cause of this outbreak of disease, guess what happens? So the plaguebearer's gotta be found and put down. If the Camarilla really gave a damn, they'd be helping us out."

"I figured we'd have to kill whoever was causing this – though maybe we could let them loose in LaCroix tower, have them start feeding on his office staff." She gave me a look that could have frozen fire. "Joking!" _Tough crowd. Or maybe the alcohol's got me thinking I'm funnier than I actually am._ "Anyway, how do we start tracking this idiot down? You have any leads?"

"We got two – though one of 'em is probably a dead end. So you've seen what the downtown hospital looks like, right?" I nodded. "It's a pile of rubble. Basically, the Sabbat Dominated some idiot or brainwashed him or ghouled him or whatever and got him to strap a bomb vest onto himself and blast the place to hell. Which was great for our cover-up, cause now the government is thinking that the epidemic is some kind of bio-terrorism, so now we got Homeland fucking Security investigating on top of the CDC. The shit just keeps piling up. Anyway, we had someone on the inside of the hospital staff looking into this mess – the Cam had someone doing the same thing. We managed to 'liberate' a copy of the police report on the blast, and it looks like a lot of the records and computer banks were untouched. CDC hasn't pulled out the records yet 'cause Homeland Security has been investigating the blast, but our guy on the local police says they've just wrapped up their investigation. So, we've gotta get in there and grab those reports before CDC has a chance to get 'em – they weren't supposed to be seen by their bosses, so they had some shit in there that would wreck the Masquerade. Plus, if we can get our hands on the Cam agent's reports, we might be able to compare notes and make some sense of this mess."

_Shit. This is even more serious than I thought._ "Wait, but how am I supposed to get in there if all these government agencies are investigating the place?"

"There's some TV show doing a special on the blast right now, between the investigations – I think it's some bullshit about like how we all need to be scared of terrorists or something like that. I dunno, I haven't turned on a TV in decades except to check news reports. Anyway, one of our Hollywood allies has someone inside the crew. I'll give you his number. Of course, that's not gonna get you the credentials you need to get past the security guarding the place. How good are you at fast talking kine into forgetting their own name?"

"Er... I can Dominate them."

"Oh yeah. Presence for social retards. Even you should be good then." _Gee, thanks, asshole._ "Call the contact before you get there, make up some shit about forgetting your badge and just don't be completely obvious about it, okay? You fuck up and get the feds after you, we are definitely _not_ bailing you out. Try calling LaCroix and begging him for help if you end up in federal prison – _if_ you even get a phone call. Patriot act's nothing to fuck with – downright fascistic. Feel sorry for kine gotta live in these times. Sure as hell makes covering shit up easier, though – you gotta blow some shit up, all you gotta feed the media is one word – terrorists. They just arrest some Muslim and declare the country safe, problem solved. Almost seems like it was tailor-made for keeping up the Masquerade – which it probably was."

_Makes me wonder how deep the Cam's hooks are in DC – probably best to not think about that, could probably drive me crazy with paranoia. But I would like to know... _ "How much does the Cam control the government? Like, do they decide who gets to be president?"

Damsel shrugged. "Hell if I know. DC is pretty much split between the tightly controlled Cam areas where all the power and money is and the Sabbat-run slums that make up the rest of the city. Anarchs don't have anyone in that place. No point – not enough money to influence the politicians, and there's no point in wading into the urban wasteland that's the rest of the city. The whole east coast is basically a battleground between those two. Not our concern. Local government is all that really matters when it comes to Kindred politics, anyway. Pretty sure Cheney is some Ventrue elder's ghoul, though."

That one was so absurdly true I couldn't help but throw my head back and laugh. "Makes perfect sense! Anyway, I see what you're saying about the Feds. Got local concerns to deal with. Lets just get them to go back to DC. Just get me the number and I'll get on that. Could I do this tonight?"

"You better do it tonight – they're wrapping up. You better be serious about this – if you're just fucking around, let me know and I'll get someone else one this."

"I'm dead serious about this. So, what about that second lead you were talking about?"

"Oh yeah. One of our boy's ghouls – name's Paul. Lives nearby in the Skyline apartments. Been a stranger lately. He was looking into this mess on street level. Looked like death last time he was here. Said he didn't get bit, but... maybe you can get more info out of him. Don't waste your time on him 'til you've gone to the Hospital, though – that's where the real info is. Get right on that – no fucking around, visiting a club, and getting around to this on your own time. Night's getting late. If you haven't called Joey – our guy on the TV crew – in half an hour, consider yourself off this investigation. And consider yourself an unwanted asshole around here for wasting my goddamn time. You got it?"

I nodded. "I told you, I'm serious about this. I'll head right to the hospital – in a cab, since I've had enough of the Sabbat for one night. What's the number?"

She gave it to me and I popped it into my cell. "I don't care how you get there, just don't screw around. Speaking of which, you done bullshitting with me? Cause I've got stuff to take care of."

I smiled. I was actually really liked her attitude – no-nonsense and practical, devoid of bullshit. Quite refreshing and straightforward after all the manipulation and bullshit. "I'm done. Is there a number I can reach you at to let you know when I've got stuff taken care of or if anything comes up?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You call me for anything other than a fucking emergency, I block your number and smash your face in the next time I see you, got it?" I nodded, and she resentfully gave me her cell number. "I fucking hate these things – miss the nights when I could just walk away from the landline when I didn't want to deal with shit. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind about using you for this, Cammy."

I just smiled back at her. "I'll be giving you a success report before sunup. See you round, Damsel." She'd already turned away from me, making a call on her cell, barking orders at someone.

As soon as the steel door slammed shut behind me, I wandered over to Jack, who was standing next to the bar, downing a drink. "Hey, Jack. Sorry about that bullshit upstairs."

He shrugged. "Whatever. So how was Santa Monica?"

I sighed. "A miserable mess. I was running around from one crisis to the next, trying to keep from getting killed by all the petty, bullshit politics."

"Heh. Bet you spent the whole time getting pushed around by any Kindred that had a week of seniority over you, am I right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"That's usually the score. Same old bullshit politics from when you were alive. Don't it just make you wanna rip somebody's spine out? What? You mean that's just me?"

I couldn't help but laugh. _Jack has a way of putting things in perspective – don't take all this so seriously, or you'll go insane._ "I guess. Just been too busy scrambling to stay alive to get around to that. You were right, though. It was the politics that almost got me killed. Well, that and the Sabbat."

"That was politics, too, kid. Look at why you were out in Santa Monica in the first place – because prince LaCroix said so. Hell, look at the whole reason your sire got killed. Camarilla law – you gotta ask permission before siring. Vampire population control, fascist crap. LaCroix was trying to show he's a 'strong leader,' enforcing the law. If Nines didn't stand up for you in that courtroom, you'd have been toast then and there, man, everyone knows that."

"Why'd that stop him? I mean, if the Camarilla law was on his side and all..."

"Public relations, man. Calculated risk. Ventrue are born in a boardroom When Nines called him out, LaCroix realized that it was time to show a carefully measured dose of Camarilla compassion."

"I thought they ruled with an iron fist. LaCroix's got money, power, that massive sheriff... why suck up to the rabble they look down on so much?"

Jack smirked at that one. "They wish they had that much of a grip on things. The Camarilla need us to buy into their crap for any of their 'laws' to mean dick. Now, tellin' free-living vampires they need to be ruled is a hard sell, so the Camarilla baked up a play-nicey plan so we'll all just jump on board."

"Makes sense... they're trying to push out the free state, so they gotta act as though they aren't that bad."

Jack nodded. "Right... Then, when they've dug their hooks in deep and tricked enough Kindred into siding with them, they can start cracking skulls."

"Makes sense, but... you know, Tung was telling me that when this kind of thing normally happens, it's the sire that's spared, and the childe that bites the dust. And... okay, so get this. I went and talked to Strauss – the guy in charge of my clan in LA?" Jack nodded. "He wasn't letting anything openly slip, but... he made it seem like there must have been something personal going on between my sire and LaCroix, though even he had no idea what was going on. Apparently she was a loner – even Tremere didn't really know what she was up to. Wish she'd given me some kinda clue before LaCroix had her taken out..."

"Interesting. Like I said, bullshit politics. LaCroix has a personal issue with your sire, finds a legal excuse to off her. But then he's gotta save face because of Nines, who's trying to stand up for the little guy – in this case, you – so he keeps you alive and 'takes you under his wing,' offering to teach you Camarilla law."

It was all falling into place now. "Except he didn't teach me shit. He takes away my apartment, my money, all my possessions, leaves me with nothing. Then he shoves me into some shithole apartment with plywood on the windows and expects me to be grateful for getting me a haven on 'such short notice.' Then he tells me to take on the Sabbat warehouse on my fucking own with no training or direction, throws me into the middle of a murderous political mess."

"You stop and think why he sent you out there in the first place, telling you to take out a Sabbat warehouse with no experience, no backup? Maybe because he didn't think you'd make it back!"

_Just confirms what my sire already told me. _ "You know, I got the feeling that everything was off about what he was having me do – that the whole point was to set me up for failure. So he sends me into the jaws of death with no clue, no possessions, no anything, and basically figures that there's no way in hell I'm gonna pull it off – so problem solved, annoying childe of a hated rival taken out without him having to directly kill me and look like an asshole."

Jack let a big grin come across his face. "Now you're starting to get how this game works. Only, seems like you didn't feel like playing by the rules, since you're still in one piece."

I grinned back. "I got you to thank for that. You made sure I at least got the basics down, gave me a chance to try out my disciplines. I just decided I wasn't gonna die – wasn't gonna let my sire's death be for nothing."

"Heh. I knew there was something I liked about you when I helped you out at the theater. Don't let anyone in this town screw you over, kid – cause everyone's gonna try."

I let a nagging suspicion that had been eating its way through my mind take voice. "Even some Anarchs?"

"Heh. Well, you've already been given the 'fight the power' pitch by Nines. And you see the way Skelter's trying to convert you. Everybody's got something they're pushing. Here's the thing – the Anarchs are up front about what they're after, and their schemes and bullshit tend to be of the high-school-drama-with-roid-rage variety, instead of the 'use you and then stab you in the back and laugh while you bleed out in the gutter' kind the Cam prefers. Yeah, some of the Anarch posturing gets annoying – but the only reason Cam agents act so polite is so they can trick you into lowering your guard, so they can fit the collar on nice and tight and figure out where exactly they're gonna shove the knife in later."

I nodded. "Makes sense. But... you really think the Anachs have a chance? I mean, I like where they come from, but a lot of what they're trying to do just doesn't seem practical." I was appealing to my initial mentor in my unlife, hoping for some real guidance.

"Kid, we've lived in California for awhile now, some of us for over a hundred years, and we've kicked the Camarilla's ass out before. Seems like every time they smell blood they're back trying to take over. LaCroix's gonna bite the dust, just like the last guy who claimed the title of Prince. Just a matter of time."

_Of course he's on the side of the Anarchs. What, did you expect him to be impartial just because he helped you out? Although, he's been straightforward with me so far..._ "Right... I'm just trying to avoid ending up dead before that happens because I wasn't careful and joined the wrong side... or any side, for that matter."

Jack surprised me by backing me up, instead of giving me more of a pitch. "You've got the right idea. Look out for yourself, cause no one else is gonna. I'll tell you what, though. Let me give you a piece of advice on staying ahead of the game. Forget about factions, and politics, all that bullshit – because right now, all you are is a tool and cannon fodder to everybody. You want some tips on just plain surviving?"

"God yes! Again, you're the first Kindred I've met that got right to what's really important – making to the next night."

"Right. Well look, it really comes down to two things – blood and domain, which are really the same thing. Basically, you want to grab some turf you can call your own, some place that will make sure you got a steady supply of blood so you don't have to worry about basic survival. Until you have that, you're gonna end up poaching on someone else's turf, which means they either blackmail you into being their bitch or they drag your ass in front of LaCroix and you end up back on the chopping block. Even with Anarchs, _everyone's _real picky about their turf. Gotta be, or else you really can't call it your own, can you? Plus, once you got a spot, you've got a place all your own to hole up in if shit goes south – don't have to worry about anyone snooping around your haven while you're out, which _will_ happen if someone else is paying the rent. And once you've got your own domain, that tells everyone that you know what you're doing – so they start seeing you as an partner that can bring something to the table, instead of a noob that can be used."

_Makes perfect sense. Stand up for yourself, get yourself resources, and respect will follow. Anyone can join a group – not everyone can add territory and resources to their faction._ "Right... once I'm standing on my own two legs, then I can start taking offers from different groups."

Jack was smiling ear to ear. "Now you get it. No point in playing politics right now – all you're picking is what side gets to play you as a pawn. Still though, don't ever forget that LaCroix is the biggest backstabbing bastard in LA. Hell, I've been thinking – those Sabbat you ran into – you said they came after you for taking out the warehouse. They knew who you were, then? Weren't just randomly patrolling turf and ran into you, right?"

I nodded, trying to get where he was going with this. "Right..."

"Well, someone must have tipped them off you were headed this way. Now... here's an interesting little scenario. I'm just gonna run this by you, see what you think. What if the prince got the word out to the Sabbat that you were the one to blow up their warehouse? And told them exactly when you were gonna be passing by their turf?"

My eyes widened as the horrible revelation made itself clear to my mind. "Do you really think..."

"Hey, it's just a theory. But who else would be watching you that closely, knowing where you're going an all that?"

My jaw all but his the floor at this revelation. "Of course! It all makes perfect sense! See, LaCroix actually told me to come down here, and I've been trying to figure out why he'd do that – now I know. He wanted me to go through a shady part of town, wanted to be able to tell the Sabbat exactly where I was headed. That devious fucking bastard!"

"It's how the Camarilla works, kiddo. Believe me, I know. I've been dealing with these slimy shits for a few centuries, now."

I all but felt my gut clench in rage and terror. _I really want to see LaCroix dead, after the shit he put me through. Still, though... it also means I gotta be careful, that his plots are even more elaborate than I realized. Still, at least I got Jack's advice to go on. Hell, he should be an elder, given his age – but he's not, he's choosing to live like the rest of us. More reason than any to respect and trust him._ "Thanks, Jack. I'll be watching my back even more carefully from now on, believe me."

"Good. Heh, shoulda got that Tzmiche that was working you over to leave you a pair of eyes on the back of your head." I shuddered reflexively – as useful as that would be, I'd be perfectly happy if I never ran into another one of _them_ again. "Good luck out there, kiddo. Try to stay in one piece – you seem like you might not be an asshole, which is pretty rare these nights. I'd hate to see you get ashed."

I all but beamed, flowering under what counted for praise from Jack. "Thanks, Jack. It means a lot."

The steel door opened up and Damsel stepped out. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. "The fuck are you still doing here? Either do what you said you would or don't let me see your ugly mug again – either way, you need to get the fuck outta my bar!"

I held my hands up defensively. "Alright, alright. I was just talking with Jack real quick, I'm leaving now."

Jack just laughed. "Better get a move on, kid. Half the dents in the concrete around here are her getting pissed at someone and introducing their face to the wall."

Damsel just scowled at me, but I was in too good a mood after my talk with Jack to care. I grinned back at Jack. "Fair enough. I'm out."

...

I'd hailed a cab as soon as I left the Last Round. Sure, I had no cash, but... _that's what Dominate is for._ I'd already called ahead to Joey and everything was ready. While I rode over, I cracked open the Anarch Mainfisto. It was actually pretty interesting. I had to love the opening – a direct assault on the religious beliefs Skelter had been pushing. _Wonder how he feels about this book._

"They say the first of our kind was Caine, cursed by God, and thus are we all cursed. These and other lies they tell us, that we will feel sorry for ourselves, to keep us in line to their will, so that we will not realize the truth for ourselves: that we are more alive now than we have ever been." Ideology-defying and unlife-affirming, I liked this text from its very introduction.

Written by a guy named Salvador Garcia who'd fought against the fascists during the Spanish revolution, he was embraced by a Brujah who'd been helping them out after nearly being beaten to death for defying authority. He kept fighting, but they lost, so he fled across the ocean and helped revolution over here. I had to admire their strategy – create panic of a Japanese invasion during World War two to distract the human authorities, then take advantage of the chaos to take out all the major Camarilla players one by one, ending with the prince. _Could they do something like this again?_ The text was short – only a few pages long. I finished it right as I approached my destination, reading the final lines before Dominating the cabbie into forgetfulness.

"Only you are to blame if you let them rule you. They are demons, all of them! They wish to make you live through the hell you cheated when you were born again. For this, they must burn as though they were in hell. We will be their hell! We will impale them on our wooden pitchforks and dip them into lakes of fire! They may scream but we will laugh! Revenge! Sweet, thick, red revenge will be mine every time you kill one of them!

Onward, to the raging fires of revolution!

Farewell,

Salvador"


	28. Chapter 27:Body of Death, Blood of Death

**So you know how I said that school would keep me from writing? Well, first I got sick for awhile. Then I got sick of studying. I guess there's only so long you can stare at equations and reaction pathways before your brain fries. So... this behemoth happened instead. Pray that updates don't happen for a bit, or I will be out of school.**

**Flying Frog: I occasionally lapse into a future point of view, as I'm kind of working from the conceit that Lucius is telling or writing this all from a future perspective, so he occasionally makes snarky comments on what he or others are doing. Still, I'll try to keep it focused on the moment itself. I have to agree with you on one point, though – I loved the way Jack never gave you any BS political pitches. He was always just like 'yep, this is how things are, do what you want.' When he wanted to make a political point, he used C4 like a badass.**

**SpecialAgentOrange: So glad to see you back in the 'open' reviews again. Honestly, I wouldn't be too paranoid about these – I don't think anyone really reads reviews on other people's works. Or maybe people will start now that I've mentioned it here? Hehe, now I just added another layer of paranoia to your mind.**

**I gotta say, the Anarchs have to hold a special place in my heart, as I myself am no stranger to intense, outsider political activism. That being said, they remind me of the more radical or my friends – heart's in the right place, but they make you just shake your head and sigh. 'Really, guys? Does everything _have_ to be a confrontation with the man?' But Anarch leadership play their own version of Jyhad, same as any Kindred that's been around long enough...**

**Thanks so much for your compliments of my character development efforts! I'm trying more and more to flesh out the Bloodlines plot. Especially with Skelter – expect a whole different outlook from the typical 'I been to Nam, let's fight the man!' archetype in Bloodlines. More like 'I was in Nam, I saw pagan demons and they put the mind-numbing fear of god into me, and if you don't believe what I do it's only because you haven't seen real horror yet." And Nines... he's a more smooth operator than in the game – though how Lucius will react to realizing that remains to be seen. And Damsel I actually liked in the game – then again sarcasm has always had a special place in my heart. Suffice to say, I'm reimagining her as just extremely blunt and practical – no frills, speeches, or conversion pitches from her. Just 'here's what we need to get done, here's how we're doing it. Get with the program or piss off.' And Jack... I won't lie, I can't improve Jack, just try to play that character well.**

**Why isn't the plague taken care of? I chalk it up to the Sabbat being more focused. I don't know if in-game the cult was supposed to be Sabbat connected or not, but I'm sure they encourage that kind of stuff. While everyone else is debating and posturing, they know exactly what they want – chaos and death, and if you have a problem with the program you die. Kind of hard to fight that determination.**

**Hm... Tremere Anarch Chantry? I feel like that would only happen if the Anarchs were controlled lock, stock and barrel by the Tremer of that city. Sounds less like the Tremere getting a heart and more like they decided the Anarchs were a more useful tool than the Camarilla...**

**Rednightmare: I figured you'd either want to hit Lucius or cry over him after this chapter. What's the matter, don't you believe in the _cause_, man? :P Yeah, Nines is trying to play Lucius desperately, though Skelter kind of screws it up with his sidetracking theological debates. But yeah, they're tempting him with companionship at a perfect time in his unlife. The Camarilla looks just about as attractive as ever right now. You're very right about Nines picking the perfect way to tempt Lucius – books, as ever, work wonders with the kid. Impromptu rap sessions, not so much Hence why Nines didn't bust out the mike. XD**

**Now, as for how Strauss feels about it – Strauss knew Lucius was going to the Last Round, knew the Anarchs would ply their Presence on him, knew how Lucius felt about LaCroix – don't expect him to be _that_ surprised. The Tremere, especially, are masters of jyhad – always moves ahead of everyone. Including the Ventrue – they're smart enough to know better than to try and be in charge, after all! Then again, Lucius's double-cross could still work out – it all depends on who makes what moves first. **

**Oh, and if you think Damsel was a bitch in the last chapter, just read this one.**

**LaCroix: What are you doing with those anarchs, you whippersnapper? I told you not to play with those kids! They're hoodlums, I tell you! Next thing you know you'll be blasting that rock'n'roll and be turning into a gay commie! Not from my grandchilde!**

…

…

...

"Hi there. Joey O'rouke. I take it you're, uh..."

"Lucius. Call me Luke," I told the hipster with the fake smile I'd been sent to meet. He was dressed in pre-torn, pre-faded jeans, a t-shirt with characters from some cartoon I'd never heard of, with a milkshake, fry-basket, and some weird blob running out of an explosion, and a leather jacket. He had those weird earlobe-expanding gauges that were about the size of a quarter.

"Okay, Luke. So anyway, we've just finished up filming – CDC starts their stuff up tomorrow, so we gotta be cleared out by the end of the night. Your people got you a media pass and everything, right?"

"Sort of. Just get me to the door and I'll take care of the rest. Is there anyone still in there?"

His smile cracked a little, revealing unease. "Uh, the core crew is finishing up, but... look, man, security is really tight here, I can't just, like, wave you in backstage like I can at most shoots... I mean, this is serious shit, Homeland Security and stuff, you know?"

We were walking around the corner, approaching the crumbled edifice of the hospital – a team had dug out a path to a door, Joey had told me on the phone. "I know what I'm doing. So what show are you guys shooting for, anyway?"

He perked up, his concerns forgotten at a chance to promote himself. "Oh, I know you've heard of us. I work for Haunted LA." I nodded, having heard of the show through one of the people in my occult group. I'd watched one episode and found it tacky and poorly made. "Yeah, we're investigating the idea that like the place is haunted because of the people that died in the attack. Could be, ya know?"

I shrugged. "It's certainly possible, that's for sure. I've already exorcised one ghost in LA, out in the Ocean House Hotel."

"No way! I knew that spot was legit! We tried to film there after some construction worker at the spot called us about a major haunting, but the person that owned the place wouldn't let us near it."

I smiled at that. "Doesn't surprise me, seeing as how they were well aware that it was haunted and hired me to get rid of the ghost so they could develop the property. Would have been a real serious Masquerade violation, too."

"Heh, you know, funny you say that. My main job in here is to make sure that nothing too crazy gets on TV. Half my job is just done for me – cameras start getting static when real ghosts show up. This spot was perfect, though – wasn't anything in there, but lots of creepy shots of smashed up building and scattered medical equipment. Plus, we kept hearing weird sounds – like, rattling, or whispering, or slurping. Probably rats or something, but it made for good TV."

We walked casually past two CDC units in a gap in the chain-link fence designed to keep the public out, Joey taking a moment to flash his press pass at them. They didn't even acknowledge us. We had no problem until we reached the door.

A man in a dark suit with a gun, radio, and bored eyes looked up at us. "Press passes," was all he said.

I just Tranced him real quick, and his eyes went glassy. I walked over and opened up the door while Joey stared, agape. "So," I said to him, pulling him from his stare. "You gonna help me here, or..."

"Uh..." Joey suddenly looked really uncomfortable, his eyes darting to the guard. "I actually gotta edit some footage. Oh, uh, Damsel told me to get you this – it's the layout of the place, with the spots you're supposed to hit up marked." He handed me an architectural layout. "Er..." he stared at the guard again for a second. "Later, Luke." With that, I closed the door on him.

_Okay... should be easy. Get in quick, get the files, Trance anyone that stops me. Piece of cake._

I got about five steps into the place before a screaming maniac started sprinting down the hall. "AAAAAHHH!" He actually collided with me, knocking the two of us to the ground.

I quickly pulled myself up and looked down the hallway to make sure there were no immediate threats I had to deal with. The man who'd run into me was babbling to himself. "It's coming! It got them, and now it's coming for me. I-it's coming for me!"

_The fuck... maybe this place really is haunted. _"Woah, calm down. What's going on?"

"My crew, my crew! We were shooting for my show, I'm a parapsychologist... Haunted LA?" He seemed delirious, jumping from one thought to the next. His eyes were wide and wild, his normally well-combed hair was askew and tangled, his clearly nice suit jacket was dusty and torn. He looked over his shoulder, terrified. "My god, it was right behind me. We've got to get out of here!"

_Okay... my money's on a ghost. Wonderful. I get to do Ocean House Hotel all over again... except this time I have no idea how I'm exorcising these spirits. And I have to deal with a Masquerade coverup, before this guy gets Homeland Security back in here. It just doesn't get any easier, does it? _I suddenly wished I'd grabbed a few more drinks at the Last Round. I sighed. "Look, what's been chasing you? A spirit of some kind? Describe it to me. You sure you haven't been drinking or something?"

He seemed to calm down a little – still filled with fear, but the panic subsided. "Look, I'll level with you, we usually fake these things. Ghosts, that's all bullshit, you know?" I nodded, confirming his false disbelief in the supernatural. "We've been shooting here for a bit, getting creepy shots, talking about the people that died in the attack, all that. We'd been hearing weird sounds from downstairs where the morgue is and some of us decided to take a few shots there to finish up – you know, get some real juicy stuff. We figured it was just rats or something! And then... and then... weird shit started happening. My crew... they all started disappearing! I don't know what's happening!"

The panic was edging back into his voice and aura – Auspex had been on since I thought a ghost might be prowling around. "Look, I'm sure it's nothing. I mean, listen to yourself... you sound like one of your viewers!"

That pulled him out – I think I genuinely insulted him. "Listen, I'm not some gullible idiot that screams ghost when he sees his own shadow! I make a living manipulating those kinds of fools, for chrissakes! I'm telling you, I know what I saw! My crew members got dragged away by something very real! I've got to get out of here... I've got to call the police!"

_Fuck fuck fuck what do I do? Stay calm... enter the bubble... Dominate him? No, too obvious, he'll freak..._ "Look, you can relax. Homeland Security has already been over this place – you think they'd notice something like this, right?"

He nodded, some semblance of control coming back over him. "Yes, although... but they never went down to the basement levels! No reason to, the blast didn't hit there. We decided to try and dig out a path to it! And then, and then..."

Panic was returning, and the guy was about to bolt. "Look, you're safe now. I'm... uh, a federal agent." I didn't have a badge, but pulling out a gun seemed to convince him well enough. _I guess on most TV shows if you have a suit and a gun you're either a mobster or a fed._ "Trust me, there's a rational explanation for all of this."

Confusion replaced the panic, which was a step in the right direction. "What? I don't understand, I thought homeland security was gone, what are you..."

"Uh..." _Think fast, man._ "I... we had reports of... illegal medical testing... of... of... some kind of hallucinogenic gas! Yeah, that's why we left the basement alone – that's where they kept the stuff! We were going to let CDC look into that – you know, since they have the gas masks and the medical expertise and all. Your crew must have leaked that stuff into the hospital when they tunneled out the basement. We were afraid of this." _Not bad. Not oscar-worthy, but scared people will grasp onto anything that makes sense of their situation._

"I... wait, this doesn't make any sense, why..."

_Can't let him think about this too long._ "Look, what seems more likely – that you and your crew are running around, freaking out over hallucinations, or that real ghosts are hunting down your crew one by one and you're next? C'mon, seems like you're starting to believe your own hype."

"But... but I know I saw people get injured, I... look!" He held up a sleeve. "There's real blood on there! I know that's real!"

_Er..._ "Yeah, I'm sure your crew is actually hurt – they hurt themselves, running recklessly away from demons they imagined. Which is exactly why we need to head down to the basement and find them – and get them out of there so they can get medical attention."

His eyes widened. "No! I'm not going back there! It's coming, it's coming after me!"

"Calm down!" The panic was blasted away like a flame being snuffed by water. "Listen to yourself! You're terrified of something your brain created! I mean... there's nothing after you up here, right? The thing chasing you just vanished. That's because this far up the gas has dissipated. I bet you the further we go down, the more scary stuff we see. And I bet you that the two of us will see totally different nightmares. Because it's not real! Just like the special effects on your show – which could use a lot more work, I might add."

He got indignant at that last comment – proving that I'd successfully dissipated the panic. "We do the best we can with our budget – we're not exactly Lucasfilm, here. And... and of course, you're right. My god, and here I considered myself a rational man. Of course it was fake. It just... it seemed so real.."

"That's why they call them hallucinations. And just be thankful that terrorists haven't figured out how to make this stuff – otherwise it probably would have been released in downtown LA by now. That's a very _real_ threat we've got to worry about." _Now I'm just playing with him. This is kinda cruel... and kinda fun!_

"Do you think... do you think the attack had anything to do with this?"

"Uh... that's classified. Anyway, I need you to come with me – your crew is probably in a state of panic, and hurting themselves. They know you, trust you – you'll have to calm them down so we can get them to a hospital that hasn't been blown up. Just remember – as we go down, you might see some strange stuff – none of it is real. You got that? I've dealt with this before, I'm trained. Just tell me when you see something odd, and I'll tell you if I saw it. If I didn't see it, then you hallucinated it. Makes sense, right?"

He nodded, even smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. There's always a rational explanation for these things, always. I just... wow, I can almost see how some people would come to believe in all that supernatural crap, you know?" He shook his head, then held out his hand. "Simon Milligan, star and director of Haunted LA."

I took his hand and shook it. "Luke. Yeah. Well, I mean, it's kinda scary, experiencing these hallucinations for the first time. You have explanation for what's going on."

"Yes, you're right! Just having no idea what's going on was the worst part! Have you... uh, have you experienced this before?"

"Yeah. Everyone in my unit has. Part of our training." _Man, I'm gonna have to remember this one. I'm a federal agent and everything you saw was terrorists releasing weaponized hallucinogenic gas. It's such a great Masquerade coverup! It can deal with any situation, it-_

My thoughts were cut short by a piercing scream from up ahead. Simon froze. "Did you hear that?" Panic was instantly back in his voice.

"I, uh... yeah. A scream, right?" He nodded, his face turning ashen. "Probably someone on your crew freaking out over a walking nightmare. C'mon, let's get to them before they hurt themselves any more." He was calm, but barely – he could sprint at any moment.

"Um... look, I mean, you've been trained in dealing with this and all, why don't I just stay here? I'd... I'd hate to hurt myself or, uh, slow you down and all. I'm sure you've got this all under control, being a federal agent and all..."

I sighed. _Yeah, this probably works out for the best._ "Okay. Just stay here. Do not leave the building, understand? Last thing I need is some potentially hallucinating people running around, screaming about ghosts and monsters around a Homeland Security investigation site. This whole situation is messed up enough as it is." _Very true, that._

"Right, I'll stay put until I hear from you. Hurry back, please!"

The place was eerie. Dust-covered medical equipment was piled up in random ways – almost as though it had been stacked specifically to look unsettling – which it probably had been, given the show that was filming. Still, the cracks in the concrete and the collapsed wall sections were unsettling reminders of the violence that had occurred here – and a reminder of the deep political implications of this entire disaster. I realized then just how very precarious my position was – the slightest slip up, the slightest little mistake, and there could be a gigantic-sized Masquerade breach – I'd be dead even if I did escape the feds. _How is it I always wind up in these situations?_ I started clearing aside several stretchers and IV stands to get through the hall. _I mean, it's not like it's my fault that this place, at such a delicate and important time, decided to start being haunted. It's not my fucking fault that the star of a major TV show has decided to go call the cops, claiming his crew was missing in between a Homeland Security and CDC investigation. But of course I'll be the one that gets blamed if shit goes down. Is this all part of some plot of LaCroix's too? Was Staruss in on it, sending me to investigate the epidemic? Or do I just have the worst luck ever?_

I cleared a way through and started heading upstairs – the files I needed were up there. The map was a little hard to follow, with the debris and the damage, but between my superhuman strength and my tire iron, I could pretty much pry anything out of the way that proved a problem. I eventually made it to the main security room. _The administrative records are right past here._ As I entered, I caught a disturbing sight on one of the camera feeds – a young woman was struggling to pull herself out of some hole in the floor – before being pulled down, screaming. _That's... I don't remember the Ocean House Hotel ghost being able to pull that off... could be a more powerful spirit, though... I don't know much about these things, but that was an old and very demented, twisted spirit. These would just be pissed about dying before their time – I guess they'd hate you if you were a terrorist or something, but... Shit. This may not be a spirit after all._ I noticed that the feeds on all the lower levels were out. Just to be safe, I quickly ejected the recording tape and smashed it into small pieces, along with most of the equipment up here. _Just got destroyed in the blast, that's all._

I walked back into a relatively untouched office area. Sure, concrete dust covered everything, and papers and chairs were scattered all around, but other than that everything was intact. _Okay... Cam agent, name Vince Fullton, third desk back. _Damsel had written in big, underlined letters "Grab his computer, all his files, EVERYTHING!" I reached the spot and was relieved to find a laptop on the table, with a nearby briefcase I could stuff it and the files I needed into. _Well, that was easy._

The files were a different matter. The desk was full of them, and it made no sense to stuff them all in the briefcase. Picking up a downed office chair, I fell back into an old, almost forgotten, almost comforting routine – quickly scanning papers, figuring if they were relevant, and filing them.

Most of them could be dismissed easily – I looked for anything with the words 'epidemic,' 'pandemic,' or 'outbreak.' _Hell of a lot easier than scanning MSDS sheets for chemical names. _I soon had a nice pile of relevants. As I reached the back of the drawer, I noticed something strange... I pushed the back, and noticed it swung out a little. I reached behind the drawer and found a file marked 'confidential.' _Jackpot. And see, if I'd just stuffed everything inside, I never would have found this. Pfft, Damsel probably knows a lot about war, but I bet she doesn't know the first thing about office academic filing or investigations. _Smiling at my ingenuity, I stuffed all the filed into the briefcase and closed it. I heard a distant scream, reminding me of my more immediate priorities. _Just finish up in here and get a move on._

I moved back to a filing cabinet. The instructions were a lot more clear here. "Pull out the top drawer. Grab the folder behind it." There was a single, unmarked folder back there. I grabbed it and popped the drawer back in. _Okay. Now to deal with... whatever the fuck is going on in the basement._

I went back down the stairs, only to have Mr. panicky ghost investigator start shakily shouting at me. "Who's there? Is that you, uh... Luke?"

I walked over to the guy, reassuring him. "Yeah, it's me. I, uh... went upstairs."

"What on earth for? I told you everyone's downstairs. Is there something going on? Tell me, man!"

I rolled my eyes. "I, uh... was checking security footage of downstairs. You know, figured I'd get a look at what was actually going on before I start seeing demons and monsters everywhere?"

Understanding registered in his eyes. "Of course. Makes perfect sense..."

"Of course it does. I know what I'm doing. Wait here." With that, I dropped the briefcase off next to him. "Don't touch that."

"What's in there?" I could see curiosity edging into him.

"Information about the gas that's leaking downstairs. Everything in there is classified. If you look at any of it, you go to federal prison, got it?" He looked up and nodded. Satisfied that I had everything under control, I headed back into the hospital.

I followed the route on the map as best I could towards the stairs, but that part of the hospital had collapsed. Frustrated, I ended up wandering around for a bit – until I found the hole that the woman had been pulled through earlier. _Well, I guess that's as good a lead as any._ I drew my gun and kept a hand near by knife – I wasn't about to be caught off-guard, no matter what I had to deal with.

I carefully descended the hole. I could see where they'd dug out the area – there was rubble all around the hole, and a makeshift ramp had been constructed using loose wooden beams. I stayed low, Auspex on, taking each step carefully. As I descended further, I heard cries.

"Oh god, what the fuck, oh god no!"

Then I got a good look at the lower level – the alcove was covered in blood, and... _is that a detached leg?_ _Fucking hell. There better not be a fucking Sabbat pack down here. Who else could it be? I should call Damsel. Fuck this bullshit. I was sent to investigate, grab some files, not fight some fanatical psychopaths on steroids. I've dealt with more than enough Sabbat horror, forget it, forget it, just..._ There was only one thing that kept me from running – curiosity. _I'll just peek through, and if the Sabbat come after me, I Purge and run my ass back to the Last Round._

I moved carefully, as though my existence depended on where I placed each step – which it probably did. I entered a long hallway, feeling very exposed. At the end was a door with a glass window. Some young goth kid – couldn't have been more than twenty – was crying and screaming, desperately pounding on the window. He saw me and started screaming. "Open the door! Help me!" I didn't make a move to help him – quite the opposite, I quickly darted behind a nearby open door, lest whatever was hunting him should see me. I peeked my head out long enough to see his face get smashed into the glass with such force it got covered in blood. I was breathing heavily, fear pulling me back to the old mortal habit. _Okay... I've seen enough. Don't need to go any further. This is Sabbat work. They caused the pandemic, they blew up the hospital, and now they've taken up residence in the basement. Just report this to Damsel and you're good. _

And yet... I felt a strange compulsion to go on, an overwhelming curiosity that spoke against my fears and reason. I moved on.

I came close to the door, then proceeded down a side hall. I made sure that each door I opened was silent, that each step was soft as a whisper - I crept, so very carefully, through a hole in the wall. My breath was utterly still out of fear. Everything had taken on a sickly green light. I saw small, flickering aural flames slowly dancing through the air, and I heard the whispering of the spirits. I crawled carefully over fallen shelves, all but wincing every time they made a sound – I was ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. I saw a hole in the wall and could tell, via auras, that there was a Kindred through there. I hid myself behind another fallen cabinet, terrified of being seen. I drew my knife just in case.

I slowly stuck my head out from my cover, just to get a quick look before running. I saw... some kind of altar, with the Kindred behind it, holding a serrated knife. I looked at her, and then – she stared me right in the eye.

"Come here."

I was helpless to obey. My mortal dread demanded that I flee, that I escape this hell – and yet my body moved of its own accord, completely dominated by a far older and more terrible being than I. I couldn't help but think back to Skelter's words, 'The elders control the blood, they command the blood.' _Oh god, after everything I'd have learned by now, you'd think that I'd know better..._

And then I was standing before her. She'd turned a dissection table into an altar of some kind, complete with a corpse atop it, a bloody skull, a candle, which cast the only flickering light in the room, aside from a strange green glow the Kindred before me gave off, and some kind of ritualistic book. I could see various corpses stuffed into holes in the wall – this was the morgue. The Kindred who had Dominated me looked to be African or Mediterranean, though her skin was ashen. She was dressed in an elegant, sleeveless dark olive dress that was covered in bloodstains, as was her chest. She had elaborate tribal tattoos on her shoulders, extending down her arms. Her dark black hair was tied into a ponytail and covered in an elaborate silver headdress.

As I watched, she bent down, draining the still living but mangled goth kid I'd seen earlier. She pulled her fangs out at the last minute, and I thought perhaps she would show him mercy – then she ripped his throat out with her teeth like a predatory animal, the entire half of his neck gone in one bite. He screamed in agonizing pain, and I watched in horror as she slurped the flesh down, before silencing his screams by ripping out his windpipe and most of what was left of his throat.

As she finished chewing her macabre meal, I felt my heart sink to my feet. She turned her eyes to me and I despaired in terror. I stared helplessly into her eyes, which were bright grey, almost white where the iris should be – and completely white where the pupil should be. She calmly looked me over. "Fear is not the sight of death. It is the fear of death. What is the fear of death? Is it the terror of the unknown? Is it these eyes you peer into? No, I am not the unknown. You and I are closer kin than you and it were."

I felt my mind be released from her Domination and instinctively stepped back, all but ready to flee. _Calm yourself. This could be a trick. Tread carefully – there's only her right here, but the rest of her pack could be around. But how... _"What the... you just ate... what are you?"

She smiled, amused. "Drinking blood to sustain your death – you are damned, yes?" I nodded, the theological implications of her statement notwithstanding – I got the point. "What if, in addition to the blood of the living, you had to eat pounds of their flesh to maintain that thin facade of life? What would you call it? Twice damned?"

The word "Monstrous," just slipped out of my mouth before I could think.

She only laughed. "Indeed, I am a monster. As are you, and all of our kind, though many lie to themselves and choose to believe otherwise. Are you among their number?"

"I..." I couldn't help but stare at the mangled, nearly headless corpse on the altar. _Control yourself. This is just like with Tung. Look at her. _I stared back up, trying my best to ignore the blood pouring down her mouth, the small tendon hanging out of her lips. "...I like to think I have a pretty solid grip on my Humanity."

"I did not contest that, walker of the Via Humanitas. But truly, being connected to ones humanity does not exclude one from one's undead nature. Indeed, humans are themselves capable of horrors. A wanderer looking to save his animal spirit once said to me: Animals are beasts. But men are truly monsters."

_There's some food for thought. Ugh, speaking of food... I think I'm gonna be sick... Back in the bubble, just treat it as an academic curiosity and keep an eye out for an attack. _"Who are you?"

"My birth name I tell no one. You may address me a Pisha. Pisha was the name of my companion and lover, 230 years ago. She has no need of it any more."

_Okay... I'm dealing with a flesh-eating, lesbian elder vampire. Great. Well, at least it seems like she's not in the Sabbat – though I can't say for sure. And she might still kill me._ "Okay. My name's Lucius – or, rather, it has been since my embrace. I, uh, don't go by my birth name either. So, uh, I guess we got that in common..." I was trying really hard to convince her not to kill me... and probably failing.

"Most Kindred discard their names at embrace. Only those who take inordinate pride in their family heritage refuse to discard who and what they were upon embrace – a foolish act, keeping one tied to a life that is lost. We are dead, as is who we once were – we are but echoes, now. Undead shadows of our former selves."

"Er... yeah, I suppose. Um... quick question... you wouldn't happen to be with the Sabbat, would you?"

"Ha! Those foolish crusaders. I once was, in a manner of speaking – but I don't suppose you even know what the Black Hand is, let alone the political intricacies of its inner workings, do you?" I shook my head, not sure how worried I should be by her response. "Then suffice to say, that I was not a part of them, so much as I used them – as did all my kind – ere the shadowlands were rent asunder by forces well beyond your comprehension. I brought my spiritual allies forth from the lands of the dead and swear allegiance to no faction, no sect, no Prince or Ductus, no Archon or Bishop."

_Okay... so I might be safe. She seems to know a lot about the spiritual realm. If I'm careful, there may be a chance to learn some really interesting stuff, here. _"Ah. Well that's good to hear. They're, uh, not too fond of me. Er... anyway... so why are you here?"

"My stay in this city is transitory. I seek relics of the occult, traced here, and would gladly trade similar artifacts in exchange for them." _Ahh... interesting._ "But if you wish to bargain with me, the kine upstairs must be sent down here. He has seen too much. If he leaves, the frail disguise we wear for mortals will be seen through."

"Yeah... I was kinda wondering how I was gonna clear up that Masquerade violation. Um... I'll tell you what, I can probably trick him. I'll just Dominate him if it comes down to it. You're, uh... gonna... take care of him?"

She just smiled and said, "Eventually."

My stomach was kind of turning over at the thought of what was going to happen to the guy, but... _Necessity before all else._ "Isn't that a little sadistic? Keeping him alive? I mean..."

"I require not just flesh, but fresh flesh. That is why I chose to take up residence in this morgue. I found a path through the subterranean sewers and sealed it from outside disturbance. The dead here are well-preserved, and there are many refrigeration units for storage. However, I would have been forced to go forth and hunt – the needs of my dead body require that I kill. There is no other way. That being said, these inquisitive kine would have had to have been killed anyway, in the maintenance of the Masquerade. So, in a way their intrusion is fortunate, as it allows me to remain ensconced here, without requiring further disappearance of mortals from the streets."

"Uh... yeah, that's a really good thing. I don't know if you're aware, but there's an epidemic going on. A lot of different government bodies investigating disappearances and deaths. That's, uh, actually why I'm here – the Sabbat blew up this hospital, probably trying to help the diseases spread, and I'm getting documents to help with the investigation into this – and to uphold the Masquerade. Uh... CDC is going to be all over here once the sun comes up. This may not be the safest haven, Pisha."

"It will suffice. I will reseal the morgue area, and my spirit servants will ensure that no investigators attempt to unearth my new home. Indeed, they keep me well informed of that which transpires in this edifice, even while I slumber during the day. I believe that these kine, seeking spirits as they were, were inevitably drawn to this spectral nexus I have created. But those who disbelieve in such things will be repelled by such activity – especially now that I have exerted my will upon my servants and made it clear that they are to cry out to none of the living – there are enough still living here that the more mischievous among my ensemble may play to their heart's content."

I nodded, equal parts freaked out and fascinated. "Okay, as long as you've got it under control. So... you command ghosts?"

She gave me a no-nonsense stare. "We will speak of these matters once you have ensured the upkeep of the Masquerade. Fetch the remaining witness. Bring him here."

I nodded. "Will do."

I made my way back upstairs... only to find that the Simon was gone. And he didn't just leave – he left with my fucking briefcase! Maybe it was the alcohol, or the Anarch attitude was starting to wear off on me – or, most likely, the endless succession constant unfair obstacles had just caused me to reach the absolute end of my rope. I screamed in impotent rage. _**We should have killed the wretch! **_I felt the beast rise up and take me. I ripped a nearby monitor off the table and hurled it at the wall, watching shatter with a satisfying smash. I stood there for a moment, breathing hard, blood-adrenaline running through my veins. I calmed myself. _This doesn't accomplish anything. Look around, maybe..._ That's when I saw it, thanks to Auspex – a small business card, lying on the ground. It had his office – which happened to be his apartment, along with his phone number. _Jackpot._

The front gate security officer opened the door and stepped in. "Is everything okay? What's going on here?"

I froze, realizing that my fit of rage may have fucked everything up. _Calm, calm... god, I'd love to just rip this guy's fucking throat out fill my empty belly and fix this problem, but there are enough corpses here as it is._ "Er... just packing up. Managed to drop a piece of equipment on my foot, that's all."

"Ah, okay. Uh... where is everyone, anyway?"

"Er... they already left out the back. Everything's packed up."

"Okay... so why is the van still here?" You guys need to be cleared out in an hour."

"Uh... everyone else... uh... headed to a party to celebrate finishing up filming. They left me to take care of the van. I'm the new guy." _This had better work. I'm so sick of this bullshit, if he calls me on this I'm just going to flip out, I can't stand this any more!_

Good thing for both of us, he bought it. "Alright. You got the keys?"

"I – ah, you gotta be kidding me! Simon left without getting them to me? That dumbass! I'm gonna go run to his apartment and get them. I'll be right back, I swear."

He just shrugged. "Look, I don't care if you get back or not. That van's leaving one way or another – up to you if it's you driving it away or a tow truck taking it to the impound lot. Either way, by the time the sun's up, this place belongs to CDC, and we're both cleared outta here. Got it?"

I nodded, and he left. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I needed to move – fast. The sun would be up way too soon for comfort, and there were far too many loose ends swinging around a very politically sensitive spot.

…

I hurried down the street, towards the address on the card – Skyline Apartments.

I'd tried calling Simon, but there was no answer. Instead, I called Damsel while I walked, desperate for support and backup. Of course, all I got was attitude.

"You better be calling to tell me you got everything without a problem, Cammy."

"Uh... yeah, about that..."

"Oh, you've got to fucking kidding me... how'd ya fuckup, Cammy? Are the feds after you? Fuck, I gotta burn this phone now that you called it, don't I?"

"No, no! It's not like that. The feds aren't onto anything, and I managed to get all the files, it's just that unexpected circumstances-"

"I gave you just about the easiest job ever. Go in with a prearranged contact. Walk into a non-hostile environment. Get a bunch of files. Get out. How in the hell do you fuck that up? How in the hell did you pull off taking out a Sabbat warehouse if you can't do this? You had some Cam agent holding your hand the whole time or something?"

_That _pissed me off. "I pulled that shit off with _no_ help from LaCroix. He sent me in there hoping I'd die, and I-"

"I'm not interested in hearing about how hard that was for you, Cammy. I ain't interested in hearing shit from you, honestly."

I was trying really hard to control my temper. "Look, if you'd just stop and listen-"

"Alright, I'll give you five seconds to explain how you managed to fuck up."

"There's a flesh-eating Kindred in the basement morgue of the hospital. She killed and ate most of the film crew."

There was silence for a few seconds on the other line as Damsel processed that information. "You said flesh-eating Kindred? I don't think those exist, Cammy."

"Well she drank one of the crew's blood, her aura was that of a Kindred, and I watched her rip a chunk of his flesh off and eat it. She says she's like a Kindred, but has to eat flesh, too. She's keeping the film crew down in the morgue as snacks for later, I guess."

Damsel sighed. "Okay... so does she not give a shit about the Masquerade, or what?"

"No, she's fine with that. She actually sealed off her little haven – the film crew dug through to her spot. They were trying to get to the morgue for shots – their show is about hauntings. But, see, the star of the show – Simon – he was running out of the place when I got there, screaming about monsters and stuff. I managed to convince him I was a federal agent investigating Medical experiments with hallucinogenic gas in the basement." Someone walking by me on the street gave me the weirdest look. I just glared at them, and they walked quickly past. I continued my conversation, though in a lower voice. "I grabbed all the files, put them in a briefcase, and left them with him, telling him they were classified. Then I went down, trying to figure out what was going on. I thought it was the Sabbat but it's even weirder. Still, I don't think she's a threat. Anyway, she tells me we have to kill the guy for the Masquerade – that's why she killed the film crew. So I go up to get him, and he's gone – along with the briefcase."

"So let me get this straight. You've got major TV star and producer of a show about investigating the supernatural. He's seen a bunch of shit he shouldn't have. He's panicking. And instead of, say, taking care of the problem, you make up a bunch of nonsense about being a fed and weird drugs in the air, then leave a bunch of solid proof that vampires exist next to him. And now he's run off, freaking out, and has all this hard evidence? That's what you're fucking telling me?" Her voice had started out calm, and was now a furious scream. "Do you have _any_ idea how bad of a fuckup this is? I don't even, I don't even..."

"It's okay!" I shouted back at her. "I have this under control. He dropped a business card with his address on it. I'm headed over to his place now."

"And what if he's not there? What if he's gone to the police? How the fuck are we gonna explain the missing crew? Under control my ass!"

I was in front of the apartment complex. "Listen, I'm sure he's at his place. I just need you to send someone down here. I have a plan. We'll just grab the keys to the van, and-"

"Not happening. Here's how it's gonna go down. We're cutting you loose. You fucked up royally. There's about to be a million problems headed your way bigger than anything you can imagine. But see, this all happened in the middle of Cam territory, by a Cam agent, which makes it a Cam problem. As far as I'm concerned, we told you about the hospital and never asked you to go. You went on your own to try and suck up to Strauss like a good little Tremere slave. That's our line. Sorry, Cammy, but this is your fuckup, so you and your precious Cam can deal with the shitstorm." The line went dead.

I felt like throwing the phone against the ground. _Wish I had Nines' number. Bet he'd get things fixed up real quick. That fucking bitch... so I gotta figure this out on my own. I can do this. Step one – take care of the witness. Step two.. take care of the bodies._ I walked into the building.

There was a security guard sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. I calmly walked past him, acting like I should be there. I walked over to the single elevator and went up to the first floor – praying he was here.

I stepped out into the alcove. His was the only door here – I suppose each floor must be its own room. I knocked on the door. "Simon?" No answer. _Shit. _I kept knocking. "Simon? It's me, Luke. The Federal agent you met in the hospital? I told you not to leave. You shouldn't have taken that briefcase. Look, if you just open up, I can get those files, which your country needs for national security, and I'll forget this ever happened." I kept knocking, but there was nothing. "Look, I'm going to get those files. I have authority to do whatever it takes to get them back. I'm coming in one way or another. If you cooperate, everything will be way easier for you."

I gave up and was pulling out my lockpicking kit when I heard footsteps. "Simon? Open up. It will be much easier this way."

I heard his shaky voice come through the door. "I know. I know the _truth_ now." _Shit._ Panic hit me like a wave of cold water, and blood-adrenaline blasted through my veins, all but emptying my stomach. I took out my kit and got to work. "I read the classified files. There's nothing about drug gas in there, but plenty of other stuff. Diseases caused by vampires, deliberately spreading plague? I knew it. Somehow, I've always known. I even told myself my work was fraudulent, but I've seen things before. I've seen too much to just keep dismissing it. I just, I just didn't want to believe. Well I know what killed my crew, now, and soon so will the world! You can't keep me silent! You can't stop this! I know the truth and I'm going to tell the world!"

The lock clicked into place and the door opened. Simon was standing there, and horror creeped onto his face, as I looked at him with hateful malevolence and nasty delight.

_**Let's get him!**_

I rushed forward with predatory speed, anger and hunger driving me. He turned to run up the stairs. I jumped over the couch and sprinted up the stairs after him. He looked behind him, at me, the same raw terror in his eyes that I'd seen when I first saw him – for I'd bared my fangs at this point, becoming the monster I was, no longer caring what he knew – we were both beyond the Masquerade. I reached the top of the stairs right after he did. His room, and safety, was only a few feet away.

I leapt the remaining distance and brought him to the ground.

"Oh god, no, no please, no!"

_**This will be exquisite!** Indeed._

I sank my fangs into his neck and relished in the feeling of his lifeblood flowing into me. I saw his life all of it, spent in pursuit of the denial of a truth he'd only accepted at the end – an acceptance which had ended his life, ironically. His brother had gone insane when they were teenagers – kept ranting and raving about some horrendous beast he'd seen. Simon became obsessed with curing his brother, with making him see sanity – yet he kept running into the same wall. He'd examine all kinds emotional problems, reasons why his brother would feel this way, and all the institutionalized kid would say was, "I know what I saw." He became obsessed with curing those afflicted by the 'delusion of the supernatural,' which he came to realize was the most common 'delusion.' Yet despite his success with cures, he encountered intense resistance at times, those absolutely convinced that what they had seen was true. After his brother's suicide, he'd become bitter, and chose to exploit rather than cure this 'delusion.' Yet he'd also begun to wonder, in some small subconscious corner in the back of his mind... to the point he began to collect 'evidence...' evidence he laughed at, that he consciously considered just fodder for his show, but still... The encounter in the hospital and the files had flipped his world on his head, and a truth he'd known all along came to the forefront. All this desperate struggle, between accepted falsehood and denied truth, and the desperate struggle to stay in the dark, filled me in a moment of absolute ecstasy as his life entered me.

I dropped his corpse to the ground and licked my lips clean with a wicked smile.

_Well,_ I thought as I came down from that wave of pleasure, _that's step one taken care of. Now to tie up all the loose ends..._ I tried calling Damsel.

"The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please hang up and try your call again."

_Damn. She got rid of that phone quick. Okay... I need to explain the dead crew... and get rid of Simon's body... Shit, this is way too complex... Calm down. Into the bubble. Analyze. What are my goals? What obstacles stand in my way? What resources do I have at my disposal to overcome these obstacles?_ A plan formed itself in my mind.

I dialed Joey's number.

"Hey man, what's up? Is everything okay?"

"Uh... yeah... well... sort of. Um... just come over to Simon's apartment. I'm there now. Get here fast – we have a lot to take care of tonight before the sun's up. I'd give us about half an hour."

"Okay, cool. Be there in five."

I picked up Simon's corpse and carried it into his closet, setting him down there. _No point in freaking out the kid as soon as he comes in the door. Just hope that his master blood-bound him to uphold the Masquerade, or I'm absolutely fucked here. If this doesn't work... no point in thinking about that. It's got to. It will._

I sat at Simon's desk, looking over the papers he'd taken out of the 'Confidential' file. Fascinating work, following feeding patterns. It was quite scientific, the criteria he used to determine when Kindred activities were spreading the pandemic, and when it was normal humans. He identified several key patients as unknowing ghouls by blood work, and determined that they had been infected, ghouled so they'd survive longer and exhibit fewer symptons, and then sent out with subconscious instructions to engage in behaviors that spread the disease. So clearly, this was intentional. He identified 2 main population groups being used as vectors – sex workers and the homeless. He also concluded that there seemed to be a third infection spread method, as yet unidentified, that was acting as a wildcard and was causing spread among other segments of the population, which was the truly terrifying part – most pandemics could be solved by a crackdown on those two groups, but this third, unidentified vector was the most disturbing...

I was interrupted from my investigations by a knock on the door. "Hello? Uh, the door's open, can I-"

"Yeah, come in," I shouted. "Close the door behind you." I got up and headed down.

Joey closed the door and looked around, plastering that same fake smile on. "Hey. Uh, where's Simon? I tried calling him to let him know that the editing was done – I just gotta go over the final cut and get his signature before sending it to the studios to be aired."

"Uh... okay, you, uh, better sit down, Joey."

He eyed me askance, his smile cracking, but he complied. "What's up? Where's Simon? He said there was some footage of the morgue he wanted to throw in there."

"Yeah... about that." _Shit, how do I bring this up? If he panics, do I have to kill him, too? Careful... _ "See, the crew dug out the path to the morgue, and, uh... they found something down there other than just corpses."

His eyes widened. "A real haunting? Like, a major one? Dude, don't worry, my master has had to like, brainwash the crew before. We got this on lock."

"Er... kinda worse than a ghost. More like... a centuries-old, ghost commanding, flesh-eating undead monster." I gave that a moment to sink in. "She wasn't exactly too happy about having her new home broken into, and, uh... hate to say this, but... the whole film crew kinda became her late-night snack."

He laughed weakly. "This... this is some kinda joke, right? I mean, the whole crew couldn't have just... can't just..." His eyes widened and he seemed to enter some kind of catatonic shock.

"Look, Joey, I really wish this wasn't true. This is a really fucked up situation I wasn't planning on having to deal with, but we both have to take care of this if we're gonna uphold the Masquerade, which absolutely has to happen, okay?"

"They, they, there were all my friends, they were like my family... all I've got, they were... oh god, oh god, no, they can't be dead they can't be dead oh god no no no-"

"Joey! Look at me!" He looked up, wild-eyed. "You need to calm down. Panicking won't help anything at all. Are you under control?"

He seemed to have gone from panic to catatonia for a few seconds, before blinking, shaking himself, and taking a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah, I just – it's just, man, this is a lot to take in, I've never-"

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but take it from someone who's had to deal with this kind of madness before – if we can't keep control of ourselves, things are gonna get a lot worse. I mean, think about the situation we're in. We've got a lot of government agencies investigating this situation, and a film crew just disappeared. We don't find a way to explain this to the press and the police, we are all dead. Like, not figuratively. We will both be very, very dead."

"Well, I mean, the fuck do we do? What do you expect from me, man? Like, why not have the people in charge of the city pull some strings or something?"

"Uh... it's not like that. We kind of have to clean up this mess ourselves. But look, we pull this off, I'm positive your master will be really happy. And I have a plan."

He nodded, composing himself as best he could. Kid was clearly out of his element, and was glad to have someone telling him what to do. "So what is it?"

"Alright," _Here's hoping this makes some kind of sense._ "So I told the guard at the door that everyone was going out and partying. So... the best cover story is probably like... a drunk-driving accident. So we just need to pile like... how many people were in the crew?"

"Six. Seven, including Simon. Is Simon..." He left that last question unspoken.

"Yeah. Anyway, we gotta pile seven bodies into the van, which we can get from the hospital morgue, and you're gonna have to crash it somewhere."

"Wait, what do you mean? What's going to happen to me?"

"Uh... well you're going to survive, obviously. I mean, you're going to have to be the one to tell the story of how everyone got roaring drunk and were being irresponsible. Heck, look at this as like... and opportunity to show off your acting skills! I mean, you're in TV, so I assume that means you want to get in front of the camera, so this is your big chance!"

I was not as convincing as I hoped. "No way! This is insane! Like, I dreamed about being a star and all, who doesn't? But this is just... fuck this, man! I'm a film editor! This isn't my scene, this isn't my job!"

_Okay... think, how do I manipulate this kid..._ "Look, your real job, the one you do for your _real_ boss – the one whose blood you drink? That job is keeping up the Masquerade in connection to Haunted LA. Well, Haunted LA is about to be responsible for the biggest Masquerade breach ever. Guess who your boss is going to blame for not doing his job?"

"No way, no way, this is crazy! I didn't sign on for this!" He turned his eyes on me accusingly. "This is all _your _fault!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How is it my fault that _your_ crew, who you were supposed to be keeping from violating the Masquerade, unearthed some ancient horror?" I could see him getting defensive. I held up my hands. "Look, I'm not saying this is your fault, either. This shit just happened. But like with a human disaster, _someone's_ going to get the blame for this if we don't fix it, and just like in any human bureaucracy, the shit travels downward and hits the guys at the bottom. And honestly, hate to say it, but ghouls are at the bottom of the totem pole. You're disposable if you're not useful. And don't say you didn't sign up for this – as soon as you put that blood in your mouth, you signed a contract, like it or not." _God, I sound cold even to myself... but I really, really need him to do what I say._

He was starting to break apart, and tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes. "This is so fucked up! I didn't do anything but what I was told! And now, you come here, telling me all my friends are dead, and that I have to fake their deaths or I'm gonna be killed! What the fuck am I supposed to do with this, man?"

I sighed. I understood where he was coming from, but... "You deal with it. I've dealt with worse. I've watched my sire die, I had everything I owned taken from me, and I was thrown into the middle of a strange town and told to deal with a bunch of fanatical lunatics with no direction. I dealt with it. I decided I was going to survive. I mean, think about what happens if we don't handle this. The truth gets out about vampires. Everyone panics. Governments start hunting the supernatural down. The sane vampires start getting shoved out by the crazies that want open war and enslavement of humanity, who want to bathe in blood on the streets – and believe me, those nuts are out there, they just have to keep their head low right now because of the sane ones that are still connected to their humanity. You do _not_ want them running loose. In the end, it would mean the collapse of civilization. You want to be responsible for that?"

He was ashen pale, almost deathly-looking. He just shook his head mutely. _Well, at least I seem to have him under control... ish. He's kinda catatonic, but Serena always said emotionally broken and disoriented people are the easiest to dominate, as your instructions are the only motivating force they have. God, isn't it funny how fucked up I thought that was at the time? Makes perfect sense now. I mean... sometimes you just gotta get shit done._ He was staring off into infinity. "Hey, Joey, look at me." His attentions snapped, though he still seemed distant and lost. "We're going to take care of this together. If you're helpful, I'll make sure that everyone knows how great you were. And who knows? You might get to take over the show after this. After all, you're the only original crew member left. And I'm sure after this tragedy, ratings will skyrocket. You could become a celebrity! You just need to very carefully obey everything I tell you, okay?" He nodded.

I remembered Serena's words on the subject of Dominate. "_You can only use this for basic instructions – you must look your target in the eye, and it can't be more than one or two words. It can only be a simple action, like 'stop' or 'give me your weapon.' More complex concepts, like 'submit,' don't work – well not quite. Obedience is not absolute. You can implant a general concept in the mind, but don't expect it to stick unless the subject is already emotionally broken or predisposed towards the concept anyway – at which point you may only be wasting blood – or, er, energy on the spell. Of course, as one advances in the study of this discipline, more complex and subtle Domination becomes possible – but that is a lesson for another time."_ I hoped this worked. "Okay, look, first things first – I'm going to get you the keys for the equipment van. We need to go back to the hospital and grab it. We're going to have to load it full of corpses. Hopefully the corpses of the people we actually need the police to think are dead... though... well, whatever. Just... wait here a sec." He nodded.

I ran upstairs, hoping he wouldn't split like Simon had. I went through Simon's pockets and pulled out the guy's wallet and keys. I checked his wallet. _Woohoo. Forty bucks. I'm rich._ I ran downstairs – time was running out.

"Are these the keys to the van?" Joey looked up and nodded. "Okay, good. Come with me – we have to run."

… …

The guard didn't even stop us on the way back. "Hurry up, clock's ticking. If you're here a minute past deadline, I'm calling the tow truck." As though I needed a reminder that time was running out – I was already starting to feel unease and weariness associated with the day.

I had Joey back the van up to a back entrance, with all doors open – that way we could load up our 'equipment' without anyone seeing what was actually being loaded. "Okay Joey. I'm going down to the morgue. I'll be back in just a minute. Stay here."

I found the hole down to the morgue nearly closed up already – Pisha had been busy. I had to squeeze through and clear some rubble out just to get down. As I entered her ritualistic haven, I saw her in the process of loading chunks of flesh from a freezer into a large backpack.

She turned and looked at me, flesh in one hand, bag in the other. "I made a request of you. Why have you not sent the man down? I assumed that I needed to evacuate this haven ere sunrise."

"I took care of him myself. He ran while I was down here. I tracked him down to his home and drained him dry."

A scowl crossed her face. "And you have the gall to call _me_ a monster."

I was taken aback by that one. "What? Because I killed him? You were going to keep him down here and eat him alive!"

"Yes, I was. A temporary hell, and abuse of the transient – the flesh. You have abused his soul, you have sent him to eternal torment."

Now I was just baffled. "What are you talking about?"

She adopted a regal posture, and began to lecture. "My sire told me, shortly after my embrace, a hidden truth – the truth about the essence of the blood. There is an energy, a fundamental force we absorb when we drain kine."

I smiled. "I know about this. Your sire wasn't the only one aware of this. It represents the total complexity and life experience of a living being."

She cocked her head, intrigued. "Indeed. Are you aware of why every drink we take is an act of violation more intense and horrible than any rape?"

I didn't need this moralizing right now, and yet... this was a chance to learn something deep and fundamental, and I found practical considerations thrown aside. I thought about her question. "Because we invade the human's mind – we take in their memories, their life experiences. That's why we see their lives when we feed."

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. "Who told you about the seeing of a mortal's life?"

"No one. I just assumed, based on the memories I see when I feed-"

"Ah!" Surprise and fascination filled her face. "So you are another with this rare condition!"

"What do you mean? Don't all Kindred see this?"

"No, not at all! Or rather, it's said most must very carefully and slowly feed to be aware of this, and only in a distant way. I have, since my first feeding, known those I fed upon more intimately than any mortal lover – for truly, who can we really know unless we take the whole of who and what they are into us? And what do you think happens when you absorb the whole of someone – the sum off all their memories and experiences? What do you think happens when you drain a person's life?"

I smiled, thinking of what I'd just experienced, figuring Pisha would share in my delight. "Intense connection, and amazing pleasure."

Now she looked at _me_ with disgust. "I would not know. I have never drained someone to their death – for when you do, you absorb their soul. You deny them afterlife and trap them eternally within you, within an eternal torment. Well, not eternal – should you experience final death, the souls will be released. It is said that the more souls are trapped within you, the more they cry out to be released – and betray you from within. The more suffering is ended with your death, the greater the universe delights in it, and the hotter you will burn, the greater will be your agony at that final moment. That is why, for all those I must kill, I stop just short of killing them by exsanguination – and instead end them by consuming the flesh, or other, more mundane means. I have never experienced that addictive moment of final absorption – nor do I desire to."

I didn't know what to make of this. I smiled, weakly, almost wanting to laugh, to treat this like a joke... _just like Joey did when he found out his friends were dead._ Instead I forced myself to think hard about what she was saying – and it made sense. In which case... _but I've absorbed those who were trying to kill me, who deserved – _but I swear, I almost heard bitter laughter at that thought, and the image of innocent Sherry came back to my mind's eye like a vision. My eyes widened in horror, and I stepped back, my hand covering my mouth, and all but shouted in guilt-fueled terror, "I didn't know!"

She stared me down sternly. "And that is the _only_ reason why the unfair damming of souls you have engaged in is forgiven. But you are no longer innocent of the knowledge of this evil, and so you are now tasked, as are all those aware of this truth, with the duty of respecting the sanctity of the soul. To abuse the flesh, to use the mortals, to kill – these are all our rights, as beings eternal, which we may exercise over the transiently living. But to abuse the eternal soul is not our right, and the souls we take weigh heavily on us. It is said that all elders, in time, grow cold and heartless, that this is simply the process of aging among our kind. But my sire told me, and I have confirmed, that it is the weariness which comes of acting as jailor to the wrongly dammed which weighs them down. If you wish to hold onto your humanity, kill not by exsanguination any further."

I felt a powerful compulsion fall upon me – and I wasn't exactly upset at it. I needed to think about the philosophical implications of this – but I felt horribly overwhelmed, as though the voices of my victims were now crying out from within my head. _Calm down!_ Yet a terrible fear remained – not just of myself and what I had done, but also of Pisha, who was staring at me with murder eyes. "I swear, I won't!" I cried.

Though her eyes continued to narrow upon me with piercing severity, a sliver of a smile crossed her lips. "I do hope so – for the sake of your own eternal soul. Do not forget – we are dammed. Salvation is denied to us – if ever it was possible in the first place. That is all the more reason to maintain what little connection one still has to salvation, good, decency, positive creative force – whatever one chooses to call it. As beings capable of living eternally, we may make our own hells – and not all need be unpleasant. It is said some have even discovered how to crawl out of the dark pits which define our existence as undead – though I put little faith in such tales of Golconda, myself."

I nodded, too overwhelmed by the revelation that had just hit me to question her further. "I mean, do those we absorb really have to suffer? How is that right?"

She eyed me with amusement. "It is not. Do you believe, even after becoming undead, that this world is the product of a just and kind creator, that the ordering of the cosmos cannot be cruel?"

"I – no, of course no. I didn't believe it before my embrace. I just, I never wanted to cause this kind of pain, to make someone suffer unfairly like this..."

Now derision was written on her face. "Intentions are meaningless. The actual consequences of your actions are all that matter. You must be left to exist with the terrible consequences of your moral failings – as must those trapped within you."

_That's just too fatalistic and dark for me to deal with._ "Isn't there some way to free the trapped souls?"

She smiled, evilly. "Certainly. Stand outside in the sunrise and you will liberate the wrongly dammed you have imprisoned within you."

Now I narrowed my eyes, looking at her with anger – though I was also reminded of how little time I had to complete my goals. "Your sarcasm doesn't help, Pisha. I'm just trying to deal with what you've just told me. But whatever. I have a practical concern to deal with before sunrise. I need to explain the death of the film crew. I'm going to fake a drunk-driving accident. A ghoul we have on their crew will pull it off, and he'll tell the story we need to the police. I just need to put the bodies of the crew into the van – it has to be them, I'm sure the police will check dental records."

All expression left her face as she became all business. "I cannot grant you the corpses you seek. They are the most fresh flesh I posses. I do, however, have several extra corpses that are so old as to provide me with no sustenance. You may take them. I do not believe you truly need the bodies of all the crew – you have the unmarked body of the head of this performance, do you not?" I nodded. "Then simply see to it that whoever the local Kindred government controls in the police force – and Kindred always have influence in law enforcement, it is simple neccessity – only check the dental records of him. It will be easily justifiable in the name of preserving resources. I have seen similar methods used elsewhere. Simply ensure the accident is horrific enough – or better yet, send the van over a bridge. Simply have your blood-bound mortal servant jump clear of the vehicle and claim he was thrown free by an impact."

I nodded. "Makes sense, I guess. Um... could you help me get the bodies up? I really don't have much time."

"Certainly, if you aid me in sealing my haven." With that, she reached into a small, nearby box, and pulled out two corpses, throwing one casually over each shoulder. "How many of the dead do you require?"

"Six." With a nod, she grabbed two more and tossed them to me. They were heavy – I barely manage to haul one onto each shoulder. She then grabbed two more and tossed them onto her shoulders on top of the two already there. _Damn, she's strong._ I let the way back out.

When we reached the hole, I pulled myself through after dropping the bodies. "Okay, just lift the first one up, and I'll pull it through. We'll just get them through one at a time, since the hole's so small." Six awkward efforts later, and I had a disturbing pile of old corpses that would have rotted long ago if not for generous applications of formaldehyde. "Just get started on sealing things up, and I'll get the ghoul to work on moving these." I grabbed two, threw them over my shoulders, and carried them to the back door.

I tossed the bodies into the van bed, startling the comatose Joey. "Hey, man." He stared at the bodies, his brain still unable to process everything. "I'm going to need your help. The, uh, good news is that you won't have to handle the bodies of your friends. The, uh, monster in the morgue needs fresh flesh, so... she's only giving up old ones. I figure they're only running dental on Simon, and we have his corpse, so we're all good."

He just started at me with this _look_ of utter disbelieving horror mixed with soul-dead apathy. "What do you need me to do?"

_Wow, he's really traumatized. And I'm really insensitive. Excuse me for not caring about his feelings and sanity in the face of this crisis – or what I just found out about myself. I kinda feel the same way, actually._ "Just come with me and move bodies into the van – I need to help reseal the morgue." He nodded and complied silently.

He took a moment to stop and stare at the corpse pile, at the hole in the ground – then he almost mechanically picked up a corpse and carried it back to the van, muttering something under his breath the whole time. _God, I hope he keeps it together long enough to do what I need him to do._ I desceded into the hole.

Pisha was already piling up concrete and medical equipment. "Aid me from above. My seal was imperfect and easy to get through because I needed to seal from below. You can drop debris into the hole as soon as we've completed this base."

"Okay. Um, if I want to reach you in the future, about those occult artifacts – or if I just want to learn something else about the nature of the spirit world, you know, so I don't end up accidentally imprisoning the dead or something – how do I reach you?"

She looked up and stared me in the eyes. "In the sewers, near here, you will find a locked door marked access point 5-a. Can you pick locks?" I nodded. "Do so. It is of simple design. In the door beyond, you will see several entrances. Once is filled with rubble. Clear it, and you will find a door behind There. Enter that hallway, and you will find a hole broken into the wall. That will lead directly to my haven. If you bring danger into my home, I will hunt you down and end your existence. Is that clear?"

I nodded vigorously, terrified yet again of her. "I swear, I mean you no harm. You've done nothing to hurt me – I don't go around trying to make enemies."

"Indeed, I have done a great deal to aid you in revealing this key truth. Do not forget what you have learned this night, Lucius." With that she got back to piling up rubble.

Joey came back. He looked down into the hole and saw me... and Pish. His eyes widened – not in fear, but anger. "You!" He jumped down the hole and moved up to the pile of rubble. Pisha was separated from Joey and I, now – but we could still see, still talk. "Are you the one that killed my friends?"

"Joey, stop!" I needed to get him to look at me, so I could dominate him, but he was staring at Pisha with deathly intensity.

"I am." Pisha replied staring back at him coldly.

Joey was breathing heavily now. "Why?"

"They saw that which mortals may not know, unless they be bound to the blood. The Masquerade must be maintained. Also, I thirsted for their blood and hungered for their flesh. These are the needs of my dead body. Their deaths were born out of necessity."

Joey just stood there, breathing deep, terrible red arual flames of anger radiating off him...before being tainted with brown bitterness, sputtering out, and settling for a seething mass of crimson slashed with blazing orange and grey – before falling to despair. His eyes turned downwards. "Yeah. I guess sometimes horrible things just have to happen, huh?"

"That is a most wise observation. Tell me, lone survivor, servitor to the blood of the dammed – what is your name?"

He looked back up at Pisha, wary and curious. "Joe. What's yours, monster?"

Pisha laughed. "You may address me as Pisha, though correctly name my nature. Tell me, despairing lone survivor – what do you believe would bring you comfort?"

He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, before his eyes wandered, up and to the left. He thought for almost an entire minute, awkward silence stretching out. His eyes returned to Pisha. "Lucius said you can control spirits. Can you send the spirits of my dead friends to haunt me?"

Pisha cocked her head to the side, examining Joey with fascination. "I can. Tell me, Joe – would you have me force your companions to remain as restless spirits, denied an afterlife, stuck in the eternal torment between worlds, merely to ameliorate your suffering?"

He stepped back, almost as though the words were a physical blow. _She has a way of knocking people severely off balance with moral observations._ "No, I didn't mean... Don't make them be ghosts, of course. But I know... I know Christina will want that. She always talked about how when she died she wanted to be a ghost. Hell, she even used to joke about how she'd haunt me if she died..." He pulled himself out of introspection with a shake of his head. "We were... close. And morbidly weird – I guess that happens when you work on a show about the dead. Can you make that happen?"

Pisha placed a finger to her lips, considering. "It can be done. Complete the movement of the bodies, and I will return to the corpses of your companions and consult any spirits that remain. What is her full name?"

"Christina Smith. Yeah, actually Smith. Though she always called herself Christina D'elormie, even signed her name that way. Kept talking about getting her name legally changed, so she'd be listed that way in her obituary. God, she'd be so pissed that she died Christina Smith..."

"No doubt she is currently upset. I will summon her by her chosen name. Finish your task and return here." With that, Pisha walked off.

Joey stood there for a few seconds, lost in reflection, before climbing out of the pit and grabbing another corpse. I grabbed two more, figuring I may as well hurry things along – I wasn't interested in this drama, I just wanted everything dealt with before sunup – and I could feel myself getting more and more tired. We trudged back to the van in silence.

When we came back, I could see some kind of aural specter hovering around Pisha – hear its terrified whispers on the supersonic hearing range. Right as we got next to Pisha, Joey stopped and froze. "I can hear her – she's whispering – calling out to me!"

Pisha smiled. "Indeed. She responded most positively to the name you gave – though she reacted most intensely to my presence. I rarely summon or command the souls of those I kill for sustenance – they inevitably despise and fear me. She was well disposed towards the idea of remaining in this world – and remaining by your side. Though she is currently quite disoriented and terrified, I believe that my presence and that of my servants are responsible. She will find comfort with you. Take this."

Pisha held out something small and white to Joey. He took it gingerly. "What is this? Wait, is it..."

"Christina's fingerbone, etched with certain sigils. It will act as an anchor. As will my spell. Grip it well, and call out to her in your thoughts." With that Pisha closed her eyes and began chanting in some strange language I didn't recognize – and Serena had drilled Latin, Arabic, and some Aramaic into me, meaning this was something really obscure. Sounded African. I watched as the ghost-aura seemed to sputter, as Pisha's pale aura seemed to reach out and grab it. It sputtered sickly yellow in fear. It was forced over Joey's mottled, shifting aura, and seemed to be... tied, somehow, to it. The ghost-aura began orbiting him faster and faster, until the conclusion of the chant – then it slowly circled him, fading to light blue and vermilion, calm and at peace.

Pisha opened her eyes. "It is done. Here." She handed him a torn piece of paper, which he took gingerly, almost shaking. "This will outline the basics of communicating with the dead. It will, of course, be easiest with Christina, but you will be able to speak with others, in time. There is a ritual, outlined on the other side, for summoning an image of the dead that you might converse freely. I doubt you can do this with any save Christina. These are basic rituals which I memorized long ago. Do not share this unless you wish the wrath of my dead servitors upon you, on top of Kindred enforcers of the Masquerade – this is a private secret I entrust unto you."

Joey looked over the paper with fascination – as did I. "Th- thank you. Thank you so much, I can't-"

"No thanks are necessary. It was I that caused her death, after all. Now, the sun will rise soon. We must resume my entombment, and you your morbid task. Farewell, Joseph." With that, she turned and resumed piling up debris.

Joey crawled out of the hole, staring at the bone and the paper in almost religious reverence. Then he put them in his pocket and grabbed the last corpse. I turned back to the debris pile to talk to Pisha about what had just happened – but the hole was closed, covered in debris, and she was already gone.

I crawled out and began just throwing any kind of debris in – concrete chunks, medical equipment, filming equipment – whatever. I was just trying to toss it in as fast as I could – I was really getting worried now. Even so, I couldn't help but wonder... _spirit summoning... could I call on Serena this way? Who else could I summon?_ My mind was spinning all kinds of possibilities.

By the time Joey came back, the pit was almost filled. "Here, help me out." Joey and I threw whatever was around into the pit until it was filled, then turned and left in silence. On the way out I grabbed a person-sized equipment trunk – just what we'd need for Simon.

… … …

The drive over was nerve-wracking – the sky was starting to turn an unsettling shade of not-quite-black, nearly driving me into frenzy. I did _not_ want to be out here in pre-dawn light – once had been enough, and I wasn't bothered enough by Pisha's revelation to take her suggestion seriously.

We pulled up next to Skyline apartments. "Come up to Simon's place with me. Help me with the equipment case – I can carry it on my own, but it looks suspicious." Joey complied.

We reached his apartment and hauled the case up the stairs. I walked into Simon's room and opened the closet, pulling out his corpse. The instant Joey saw his former boss, his eyes went wide, he turned pale, and the next thing I knew he was puking his guts out right on the floor.

"Uh... you okay Joey?" He didn't answer – he was still hurling at high velocity. _Shit. Just get Simon in the case and out of sight. _ I stuffed the parapsychologist's corpse into the case and shut it tight while Joey emptied his stomach. I pushed it down the stairs while he finished dry-heaving. "You alright, man?" I asked again.

Joey nodded, wiping his mouth. "Yeah, it's just... you know, it's funny. I've already handled corpses tonight, but... it wasn't anyone I knew. I guess I kept hoping somehow they weren't really dead, you know? I mean, I knew Christina was dead, but not really – cause I can hear her, feel her, you know? I guess seeing Simon dead made it _really_ real, you know?"

I nodded – and his mention of Christina made me think of something. I'd seen a copy machine in Simon's bedroom. "Yeah, I understand. Hey, Joey. Let me see that paper Pisha gave you."

He eyed me warily. "I need it. It's for me."

I sighed. _Goddamnit, why can't anything be easy?_ "I'm not going to keep it – I just want to make a copy."

He shook his head adamantly. "Pisha meant it for me. All you've done is twist and manipulate – you're going to make some spirit suffer. I've done everything you told me to because I had to – it's necessary for the Masquerade – but not this. No."

I was a little thrown off by his assessment of me – _I'm not a bad person, as far as Kindred go..._ though Pisha's words still haunted me... but inquisitiveness and necessity trumped all moral considerations. "Give me the paper."

I could see his eyes go wide, see him shake in frustration and anger as he tried to fight – to no avail. He reached into his pocket and handed me the paper. I took it with a smile. I turned, entered Simon's room – Joey and I had been standing right outside – and locked the door shut.

I could hear him hammering on the door, shouting. I ignored him and calmly worked the copy machine, printing out the mystical instructions on clean, white printer paper. I pocketed it, grabbed the original, and opened the door. Joey's fist was in mid knock as I opened it, and he stood there for a second, anger written on his face. I handed him the paper back. "There you go, that wasn't so hard. I just want to research this stuff, that's all. I'm an investigator of the mystical, see. I really don't mean anyone any harm, Joey. You've seen a very... harsh side of me. It's just this whole situation, it's so..." I could see I was getting nowhere with him. He was sullenly staring at me, silently fuming. "Whatever. Let's just get Simon into the van and go over the plan." We each grabbed an end of the case and carried it out to the street.

… … … …

We'd finished arranging the corpses, fitting them into seats, making sure the impacts and shatterings would be realistic. Simon was seated in the front seat. Joey was in the driver's seat, and I was standing next to him, talking through the window. The sun was way too far up and I was eager to finish this up.

"Okay, so it's probably best if you just drive this off a bridge or something. Just make sure it hits something on the way down and say you were thrown clean by the blast. That's what Pisha suggested, anyway."

Joey nodded. "Makes sense. I trust _her, _anyway." The obvious implications of his statement bit a little, but I didn't much care right now.

"Make sure you call your sire, let them know what's up – if they're asleep, his up the daytime contact. You've got a story to tell the cops and press, right?"

"Yeah. We were drunk. Simon was driving. We veered off the road. The tragedy and horror won't be hard to pull off – they're genuine. Hell, I don't know how I'm not overwhelmed now." He eyed me askance. "Almost as though _something_ is keeping me from feeling the real panic I ought to be."

I sighed. "Okay, yeah, I made you calm down when you were panicking. Necessity, man. And look, don't be bitter about this, I had to-"

"You didn't have to take that paper from me. I don't care how much you want that knowledge. It's _my property_. After all the help I gave you, you could have shown me some respect."

_He has a point, but..._ "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

I scoffed at that. "If you're sorry, give me the copy you made. I'll let you look at the paper when _I _decide."

I was seething. _This insolent little..._ I wasn't about to be talked to like this by a goddamn ghoul... "Listen, ghoul As Kindred, I don't have to do-" _Wow. Listen to yourself. Am I really already starting to become a snobby, using asshole? _I calmed myself. _I at least owe the kid an explanation._ "Sorry, Joey. Look, it's really important that I be able to contact a certain spirit – my survival might even depend on it. There's not enough time to explain, just... I need this. And necessity comes first."

He just rolled his eyes, which just about set me off again – the sun's impending rise had me on edge. "Whatever, man. Alright, time to fake the death of everyone I care about in this world."

I did really feel bad for the kid, now. _Okay, let's be honest. I'm being an asshole. Whatever. Don't care at this point. Still... _"Look, Joey, you've got my number. If you're ever in trouble, you can give me a call, okay?"

He just laughed at that one. "Yeah, sure. If you're ever in trouble, please _don't _call me, okay? I've already helped you enough. Goodbye, Lucius." With that, he sped off.

I all but sprinted back into the apartments, up into Simon's place shutting, locking, and bolting the door behind me. I felt weariness weigh me down. _Shit. I've got nowhere else to stay. I was so focused on getting this taken care of... _I stumbled up to Simon's room. I looked at the papers scattered on the table. _There's a chance the cops might come here in the day. Shit. Not safe._ I gathered up the papers into the file and stuffed everything into the open briefcase. I saw a picture of what looked like a Nosferatu lying on the table. _Hello, Masquerade violation._ I stuffed it into the briefcase alongside everything else.

_Okay. The closet is probably safest, although, if cops search the place... No other option._ I grabbed the briefcase and a pillow from Simon's bed and shut myself inside.

I tried to settle down to sleep, but kept worrying about what might happen if someone came in on me while I slept. _Shit. This is so fucked. What can I do?_ That's when I noticed the nearby air vent. I got to work on prying it open. _Tight fit, but certainly an improvement._

Shoving the briefcase in front of me, I stuffed myself into the vent feet-first, so I could reach back and pull the cover shut behind me. Satisfied that I was finally safe, I set my head down on the pillow to rest after my long and terrible night in downtown LA.

I thought over everything I'd had to deal with. I thought through the deadly machinations of prince LaCroix, the deadly web which I could only begin to comprehend, which I was caught in like a fly. I thought of the Anarchs, who offered a possibility of freedom from this trap – though I had to be careful, had to be wary, as LaCroix could use my involvement with them against me. Also, I was done dealing with Damsel after the bullshit she'd pulled tonight. I thought of Strauss, who could be ally or subtle enemy – who could teach me freeing powers, or trap me in ways I couldn't quite comprehend. I thought of the delightful, hidden knowledge he possessed – though as I'd learned from Pisha, there were other sources of such knowledge. I realized for the first time how strange it was that I had given him my blood – but I was too tired to think on it much. I also wondered how dangerous a game I was playing with the Chantry – whether I should come clean with them, or keep trying to play both sides.

Finally, most unsettling, I thought of the reality-changing horror I'd experienced at the hands of the Sabbat – and I wondered if I'd ever be the same again. I couldn't decide which was worse – the absolute terror I'd endured, or the subtle, creeping horror at the knowledge that I probably had wrongly trapped souls inside me, screaming in desperate agony for release. I fell asleep to the quiet crying of Sherry, and that weeping would never truly leave me for the rest of my nights.


	29. Chapter 28: When the Dead pity the Dying

**Hey hey loyal readers! So guess who can't handle studying any more and instead decided to be responsible and finish this chapter? Guess who's probably failing midterms tomorrow? I joke, I'll just stay up all night. Works quite well, provided you care more about grades than sanity. Why care about something you've already lost?**

**Flying Frog: Lucius keeping a grip on his humanity is harder and harder every night. The necessities of predatory eternity will see to it that he will either become a cold, manipulative bastard, seeing everyone as either a tool or an enemy, or… well, how does a Kindred subjected to constant terror, constant threat, constant backstabbing keep from becoming a cold, paranoid monster? We'll see… if, indeed, it is possible at all…**

**Claquear: Since your place in the story is far ahead of where you're reviewing, I'll give you a shout-out. Feel free to skip and only review major chapters, or just skip to the latest chapter for reviewage. Whatever you feel like! And reading the other reviews on a story is a bit… odd. I'm starting to think your sane, Toreador personality is just a front, and you're truly Malk beneath it all. Oh god, a lone hideous nossie man in a coterie of crazy malk women… I feel like that's the setup for some kind of terrible, vampire-themed sitcom. Er… those of you not in on our little VTM sessions, ignore that comment.**

**Rednightmare: What? Hipsters? In a radical revolutionary movement? You don't say? (Too be fair, they're more tolerable than half the 'true believers,' believe me, truly :P) But yeah, there needed to be a foil for Pisha or things would just start getting ridiculous.**

**Being constantly on edge, bitter, and paranoid is kind of a key part of Lucius' personality at this point. He was already a bitter pessimist before his embrace, and his unlife hasn't made things any better. But I like to think that he's a bit likeable because instead of devolving into angst and such nonsense, he just gets tougher and more bitter, along with getting a little wiser, and maybe, just maybe, starting to truly understand morality and humanity from a mature perspective. Or maybe he'll just devolve into a bitter little hermit, grumbling every time he has to leave his nice, enclosed haven and his research. I haven't decided yet.**

**As for the lack of bold letters – that was actually a formatting error on FanFiction's part. But, er, thanks for thinking there was something deep behind it, like some kind of stylistic change representing a shift in Lucius' personality. I mean, er… yeah, that's totally what it was!**

**Pisha is a very interesting case of someone who is very, very comfortable with the monster she is. She's going to play much more of a role than she did in the games, believe me. Her actions will have major effects on Lucius' awareness and unlife direction in this very chapter. I really appreciate that you think I wrote her well, I worked quite hard on her.**

**I don't know what sad, sad boys you know that fell in love with Damsel at first sight. She's a mean-spirited bitch! She hurls nothing but hateful invective and verbal abuse your way! I could see her lack of subtle manipulation and backstabbing plans, her brutal, forthright honesty coming to grow on someone _over time_, but anyone that finds her 'endearing' after her first impression will clearly fall in love with anything that has tits. Just sayin'**

**DianaPixy: Omg omg omg you read a chapter in my story! I'm floating on a cloud of joy.**

…**And with that silly little exclamation of childish joy, let's get to Lucius' fifth night as Kindred. If he hangs in there, he might just make it a week!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I woke up with a sore neck, a hungry stomach, and a throbbing hangover.

I lay there for a few minutes, sleeping in, but I was extremely uncomfortable, and decided to get up early. I opened my eyes to darkness. _What the?_ I tried to get up, only to slam my head into the vent.

"Ah! Shit!" I screamed. I held my head for a moment. I recalled the place I'd gone to sleep, and everything made sense. _Shit. I hope there aren't cops in the apartment. If there are, I just alerted them to my presence._ After about a minute, it was clear no one was searching. I pried open the vent and pulled myself out.

Everything was exactly as I'd left it last night. _Great. So I could have slept in the bed. Better safe than sorry, I guess._ My head was absolutely throbbing, and I was pretty unhappy. _After all, I have no idea whether I'm screwed or not. Joey could have screwed up, and even if he didn't, Damsel could still have put out that I'm not with the Anarchs any more, meaning I'm stuck with the Cam, with no hope of freedom. Everything went to hell last night. Got a taste of hope, just to have it yanked away. To say nothing of the fucking Sabbat… no, I'm not going to think about that! _ I began desperately going through Simon's stuff, trying to find something useful, in case I needed to go on the run if the Masquerade had been torn to shreds, bitterly thinking to myself about how unfair-

_Score!_ I'd found a pack of cigarettes in one of Simon's drawers. I pulled one out and lit it up right away. As I pounded by dead heart into action, as the nicotine hit my brain, I felt myself calm down, comforted by familiarity. _I'll be fine. I just need to check the news, and-_

"WOOP! WOOP! WOOP!"

I just about jumped out of my skin at the sound of an alarm going off. I was just about ready to bolt when I realized its source - the smoke alarm. I all but collapsed in relief - no burglar alarms, no police, nothing like that. With an annoyed sigh, I pulled out my knife and stabbed it directly into the offending appliance.

"WOOP! WOooo.." It died with a pathetic mewling. I smiled contentedly.

Leaving the knife imbedded in the device, I finished my cigarette in silence and thought. _I need to figure out what's going on, but there's no rush. I'm safe here for now. May as well compose myself a little, take a shower, and properly scour this place for useful resources._ I finished my cig and put it out in a nearby trashcan. I headed into Simon's bathroom, stripped, and let the gentle, warm water wash over me, rinsing away the horror and grime of the last night as best it could.

I stepped out of the shower, refreshed. As I dried myself off, I saw Simon's toothbrush and decided to make use of it. I spit out clumps of dried blood into the sink and rinsed the sanguinary residue off. I looked up into the mirror.

I was different. Not overtly, not obviously, but I had changed since last I'd looked at myself. Somehow I was more symmetrical, almost alien. It was subtle but there was no denying it - I seemed more otherworldly, less human in some indefinable, vague way. _It must be the Lizard - he wasn't perfect when he put my face back, which I suppose makes sense, given that he was planning on warping it again in a minute. Or maybe... or maybe my humanity is slowly slipping away. Oh, stop it, Lucius. Don't be so dramatic and depressed. It's clearly the Lizard and the effect of his Fleshcrafting. Which is still an unsettling thought – that I've been permanently changed by the hands of my torturers. Could have been worse, though. I could have ended up looking like something that would make a Nosfertu feel sorry for me. _I shuddered.

I still couldn't help but wonder at the state of my humanity. I'd learned how very different I was than the living physically, as I endured becoming monstrous beyond comprehension. And I'd learned how very terrible I was spiritually, a prison for the wrongly damned. _Provided that's even true._ But it made sense within the context of everything I knew about the blood, everything I'd experienced. I couldn't fool myself into disbelieving this truth. _So what do I do with that? I guess... no more feeding until someone dies. I mean. I can't really justify doing that any more. It's just... it's just... it feels so good. Well, so did killing Sherry - right up until I had to sit and deal with the moral repercussions of her life ending. I can't do this anymore. I just can't. If I do, I lose myself to the beast._

_**And is that so bad? Have I not kept us alive? Have I not granted us great power when needed? Maybe I'm just the voice of reason, helping you break away from the bullshit and spirituality of your parents. Or are you about to become a true believer, like Skelter, and contritely pray to God for forgiveness? This is a purely spiritual matter - it has no practical downside. It's irrelevant.**_

The beast was being far too reasonable, and I didn't like this at all. He was becoming far too… insidious. I had no response to his challenge, except to say _I hear the cries of those I've taken. They'll wear me down. And... and... and it's just fucking wrong, okay?_ There was no response from my dark side but mocking laughter.

I pulled my thoughts from internal reflection, my eyes from my reflection - both pointless paths of contemplation. I looked at my clothing, ripped and destroyed. My suit was really a pathetic imitation of decency. I sighed. _Lasted one damn night. Don't have any money to fix it with, either._

A thought occurred to me then. I started digging through Simon's closet, having noticed earlier that we were roughly the same size. I quickly found a new outfit, and stole a few extra outfits on top of the one I put on – as many as I could fit into the briefcase, anyway. I still needed my existing, torn coat - it had the special pockets and loops I needed to keep my material possessions. However, I figured I'd just wear an overcoat on over it - another layer between me and whatever the world wanted to throw at me couldn't hurt, after all. Since I had the briefcase open anyway, I figured I may as well look over the reports again. I knew I should be scanning media reports, seeing if I was wanted - but I really didn't want to deal with that. So I delved into the comforting familiarity of academic research.

I didn't really learn anything new from the Anarch report – it was incomplete compared to the Cam one, only outlining the spread among the homeless and the prostitutes, failing to back anything up with blood tests showing intentional ghouling - fair enough, considering the lack of resources or authority on his part, but still.

I looked back over Mr. Fulton's report. It detailed several disturbing trends. First of all, he identified ghouls spreading plague as primary vectors, people catching the disease by being fed on as secondary vectors, and spread of disease by mundane means - coughing, infected food, etc. to be tertiary vectors. He noted an increase in the rate of creation of primary and secondary vectors, meaning the Kindred responsible were feeding more often in order to feed more of their vitae to ghoul vectors. He also noted that while the rate of tertiary spread had been quite slow at first, it was increasing. _Meaning they're sending more disease bombs into the world - and they're improving the disease that they're sending out. No question - whoever's doing this has a deliberate plan to systematically destroy this city through infection. So why hasn't the Camarilla done anything about it? I mean, do they just not care, or…_

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of my phone. It was an unknown number. I answered, tentatively speaking into the microphone. "Hello? Who is this?"

A firm and familiar voice answered. "It's me, kid," Nines replied.

Relief washed over me, before worry returned, as I didn't know what he knew or thought about the situation. "Look, Nines, I don't know what Damsel told you, but I've done everything I could to keep up the Masquerade, and-"

"It's okay, Lu." Nines interrupted. "Calm down. I know you've taken care of things. I just got off the phone with Alex, Joey's 'boss.' The Toreador found out from his day manager ghoul what went down yesterday as soon as he woke up. His ghoul's been managing the media all day, got in contact with our guy on the police, and Joey managed to convince the cops and the cameras. As far as anyone knows, it was just a normal drunk-driving accident. You did good, kid. Real good."

I felt terrible fear blast out of me like the expulsion of a poison. I felt like I had when I'd found out the cops didn't have a description of me after the diner shootout. I laughed into the phone. "Thank god. I did the best I could, but I didn't have much to work with. I had like... half an hour, a film editing ghoul, a van, and some corpses. I wasn't sure if Joey was going to flake, or... but you know, if Damsel hadn't completely blown me off, I wouldn't have had to cut things so close."

"Look," Nines replied. "Damsel flew off the handle a little, yeah. She does that. But think about it from our perspective. You're young. A fledgling not more than a few nights old. We pretty much have to assume you're going to screw up. You call us half an hour before sunrise asking for help. From where we're standing, looks like the shit is about to hit the fan. Sending out backup just means we got no chance to untangle ourselves from the mess, you know?"

As pissed as I'd been at Damsel, his words made sense, calming me down. "Yeah, fair enough. And I guess I was able to take care of it on my own."

"Exactly. And now we all know that you're on top of your game. We can count on you to clean up any messes that come up, we can count on you to keep a cool head - basically, we can count on you to not fuck up. Which means a hell of a lot, Lu."

I was all but blossoming under his praise. "I... thanks, Nines. This is the first time anyone's actually showed me any appreciation for my hard work, for having to think carefully and quickly, having to deal with all these absurd situations, I just…"

"We're not the Cam, kid. Yeah, we bitch you out if it looks like you're fucking up. That's so you don't end up dead. When you pull through, we don't take that for granted. You've got a good head on you, I can see that. You're way more on top of your shit than any fledge your age. We could really use someone like you."

I was openly smiling, now, almost overwhelmed by the praise. _Sure, he's probably blowing smoke up my ass, but still…_ "Thanks, Nines. It means a lot."

"Just sayin' it like it is, Lu. Now, you got the files, right?"

_Back to business._ "Yeah. I've had a chance to look over them and analyze them, and it's really obvious that someone is intentionally spreading this - there's ghouls being sent out as disease vectors, with instructions to do things that spread the plague. It's not just someone careless. This is systematic. I could write up a summary report, if you want to save time looking over all the documents." Figured I may as well continue to prove myself useful - if I could get a position with them mostly writing reports and analyzing stuff, that would pretty much be a dream job.

"Uh, just get everything to Damsel. Where are you right now, by the way? You have access to a computer?"

"I actually fell asleep in Simon's apartment. I really didn't have an option, after loading Simon's body from his place I had to sleep here to avoid the sun."

Nines sighed. "Bad move, kid. I'm pretty sure the fuzz is gonna be there soon. You could have been caught during the day."

"I thought of that. Slept in the air vents. If I didn't carefully plan ahead, I'd have turned to ash in Santa Monica already."

"Fair enough. I was just asking where you are `cause it would be easier if you could scan the files and send them to this email address: fightthepoweryahoo. It's Damsel's. Also, I want you to bring a copy of the files to Strauss - we absolutely need you to make him think you're doing this for him. You need to learn as much as you can about blood magic. Of course, you and I know you're a free Kindred, doing this just to help out your brothers and sisters on the streets – but Strauss doesn't have to know that, does he?"

_He's trying to make me commit to this... which doesn't really matter right now, it's just words, only… ugh, I wish I wasn't so groggy still so I could think clearly._ "Yeah, of course. Just trying to help out. I mean, it would be nice to get something when all this is taken care of, but..."

"We'll see what we can do. We're not like LaCroix - we're not crawling with money. But never forget – loyalty, respect, and blood are harder currency than cash any night. You keep this up, you're going to earn plenty of all three."

I couldn't help but smile again - I finally seemed to be getting somewhere in the Kindred world. "Thanks, again. I'll get on all that right away, I promise."

"Sure. Huh, what?" Nines said something unintelligible to someone off the phone. "You're in Skyline apartments, right?"

"Uh, yeah. That's where Simon's place is. Why?"

"Damsel just wants you to check in with Paul, that ghoul we had looking into this stuff. He's up on the fifth floor. He doesn't answer his calls or knocks on the door, so he's probably skipped town. Just check his place real quick for any clue on where he's got off to."

"Okay, cool. I'll just pick the lock. I'll be over to you as soon as I take care of this and see Strauss."

"Come see me first. We gotta talk about how you're gonna work the chantry. I mean, I'm not telling you what to do - you're the one that wanted to do this. I'm just trying to make sure you don't get burned while doing it."

"Right, of course. I'll be right there. Talk to you later, Nines." With that, I disconnected.

I loaded the papers into the nearby scanner, sending a copy to Damsel's silly email address and one of my personal ones – _definitely not going to send this to the one LaCroix gave me, which is probably monitored_. I stuffed the papers into the briefcase, grabbed my knife from the wall, and was about to leave the makeshift haven when I decided to check Simon's computer - just in case there were any Masquerade violations.

What I found was a fascinating cross-section of the strange and supernatural. Simon's comments allowed me to quickly separate bullshit from genuine sightings of the otherworldly. _So much to look through._ A blurry pic of a nosferatu. Ethereal manifestations of spirits. What looked like the imprint of a demon on the dust of a wall. A snout and glowing eyes looking out of the woods that filled me with instinctual terror. I quickly grabbed a flash drive he had and uploaded everything. _Could be an excellent research opportunity. Plus, the flash drive could come in handy._ Then I wiped the hard drive.

I took the elevator up. I didn't bother knocking - I just started working on the tumblers and rods. It took me awhile, but in the end the lock clicked into place.

The place was empty and smelled musty. It seemed like a normal apartment for a young twentysomething. A few beer bottles on the counter, a nice TV and sound system, a large collection of DVDs. I wandered over to the stairs, when…

_Oh, hey. Paul's corpse. Well, that explains why he hasn't been answering his calls._

I walked over to the body, examining it for a possoble cause of death. He was curled into the fetal position. There were no marks on him that I could see, indicating that he hadn't died violently. _Probably was fed on. Makes sense, given the fact he was investigating a group of Kindred trying to kill as many people as possible. Still... solid answers would be nice._

I started looking around his place. Nothing particularly interesting. He was a freelance journalist who probably got most of his money from the kindred he served - his journalistic investigations were probably cover for his real work. He hadn't found much, from what I could gather from the disorganized documents, pictures, and papers scattered around his place - at least nothing more enlightening than what I'd grabbed in the hospital. The only interesting objects I found were a couple of empty syringes in a drawer, marked 'evidence.' _Guess he must have collected blood samples as part of his investigation._ I grabbed them, figuring they may be useful

With a sigh, I was ready to give up - I'd already wasted too much time here. Still, I couldn't help but regret that I couldn't get more info out of Paul. I bitterly regretted that I'd never had a chance to be taught blood analysis by Serena. She'd kept insisting that I wasn't ready - which I now understood meant I needed to be embraced first. Instead, she had taught me theoretical principles of blood magic, allowing me to practice the spells while human. _I should probably ask Strauss to teach me that first – it's really basic, so he won't object. Though… maybe there's another way to get information. Think… like Serena used to say, analyze from all angles. Meditate to free one's mind from the constraints of conventional thought. Ponder all perspectives, however impossible they seem. The answer is often quite simple – just not that obvious until hindsight._

I sat, entering the meditative lotus sitting position my sire had taught me for the first time since my embrace. I entered the bubble and felt all worries and stimuli floating away. I turned over the problem in my mind, carefully analyzed my available tools, and… _Of course! Pisha's spell for summoning the dead!_

I quickly pulled it out and read it over.

"The underworlds are akin to the realm of Hades described in Greek myth – not a hell of punishment, but simply a desolate desert of nothingness, in which there is no great central force to give meaning to the unending eternity of death, causing endless reflection and remorse. These lost souls, which comprise the majority of the dead, are known as wraiths. Some wraiths find inner peace and transcend their torment, and others find ways out of this realm – either into rebirth, by virtue of belief in such things and dedicated efforts towards such a goal, or else escape into the umbra and metamorphosis into another spiritual form. The realm closest to the living realm is the shadowlands, a dark reflection of the lands of the living. The most restless dead, those not at peace with their death, those most likely to return to the skinlands, are here. We shall not discuss the other realms of the underworld, as they are of little consequence to those not of advanced skill in necromancy.

The doors betwixt the shadowlands and skinlands are those that connect death and life, and are often areas where death has occurred, such as graveyards, hospitals, or battlefields. To pull the dead forth from the other side, one must have a connection to the departed. An object emotionally connected to them will suffice. A part of the body will work well. To obtain their body is ideal"

_Well, this should make things easier._ I sat myself down next to the body and continued reading.

"To begin the opening of the doors between the worlds of the living and the dead, one must begin by looking into the moment of death. One must enter a state of meditative higher awareness. Focus upon the concept of death, of the moment of it. Keep the name of the target within your mind. Focus upon all these concepts simultaneously and you will begin to hear the whispers of the spirit you desire to contact. Once you have entered this state, stare into the eyes of the corpse and you may witness the moments of their death."

I did all that the paper recommended. I entered the meditative bubble, focused on the calming of my inner energies, the balancing of chakras – all the techniques Serena had drilled into me. I activated Auspex, opening my third eye. I remembered the moment of my death, the ancient whispering, the dark forces and beings beyond my comprehension. I held all this in careful balance within my mind, as I chanted the name _Paul_ over and over again. And I heard it. Not the subtle whispering that normally came with Auspex – clear, pitiful moaning and wailing of one voice. While keeping all this balanced within my mind, I proceeded to the corpse and stared deep into Paul's eyes.

At first, all I saw was the dead, glassy stare of a corpse. I focused, holding all the elements in my mind. I focused on the deep whispering, I focused on the other side, and I stared… deep into the black pupils of the dead… and reflected in the abyssal darkness was the imagery of death.

I saw what Paul had gone through as his life ended. He was lying on the ground. He was gasping, wheezing, shuddering. I saw overwhelming helplessness, pain, and misery – there was no violence, no brutality – just a slow, miserable drain that ended when the last drops of life ebbed away, and his soul slipped out of his body.

I blinked and pulled myself back from the vision. I shuddered – going through death again had been quite disconcerting. _Well, I assumed he'd been fed upon and I was hoping to see his assailant – seems like he succumbed to the plague, instead. Great. So still a dead end. Well, I could always speak with Paul's spirit. May as well continue to read the pages, see what the next ritual is._

"Once you have entered the state of awareness of the shadowlands, you can interact with a spirit. Full summoning of a spirit is a complex spell that requires a great deal of practice. A simpler ritual is outlined here that allows one to summon a spirit in those instances where it is highly disposed towards reentering the skinlands. While certainly not as effective as the proper spell, this ritual still has great potential for the newly initiated necromancer."

I read over the remainder of the page, which was mostly a series of diagrams and technical instructions. I began scouring the apartment for the needed materials. Candles. Chalk. A full-length mirror, pried off the bathroom wall. Between this laundry list and my blood, I was ready.

I set up a mirror next to the body. I drew a circle around Paul's body, then another circle, filling the space between them with a litany of African and Sumerian symbols. I then cut open a vein and wrote the same symbolic double circle in blood on the mirror. I was very careful in making sure that the blood circle overlapped the chalk circle's reflection from the perspective of the place I would be sitting, producing a surreal overlap. I placed five candles at strategic points on the circle and lit them. The room took on a palpable aura of darkness upon the completion of the ritual setup. Serena had always told me how important mood was to magic – achieving the proper emotional resonance was half the work of any ritual. The feeling here was distinctly different from her haven. Her place, like the chantry, had been surreal and magically charged, speaking of infinite possibilities. This was dark and deep, reeking of decay and feeling of regret. I heard whispers, even without Auspex, of deep mourning, and the vision within the mirror, within the circle, began to shift and waver.

I sat cross-legged in front of the corpse and began the newly-learned spell. This was my element – the mystical calculus of world-opening, the intense concentration of warping reality to my desires, the elaborate ceremonial-symbolic structure. This was what I was meant to spend eternity doing. This was what I had spent so long studying under Serena. This resonated with my personality and my blood. I bitterly regretted the loss of my notes, of her ritual implements, of the vast knowledge and study that was to have been my unlife – and that bitter regret tied me all the stronger to the land of the dead.

"Wraiths are all invariably restless beings, desiring some result in this world which they cannot achieve, trapping them in the shadowlands. They are all tied to this world by a sentimental regret – regret which can be exploited to make them serve your ends. Indeed, for those not well versed in necromancy, compulsion is impossible – one must use these regrets and desires to manipulate a spirit into service. Finally, these spirits draw energy from certain emotions – love, despair, anger, etc. – which are as spiritual lifeblood to them, restoring vitality and their ability to affect both shadowlands and skinlands. Offers of this emotional sustenance are a form of bribery which may also work."

I didn't intend to do anything more than ask Paul questions – questions which would hopefully help me figure out why he died, how he got sick, which were hopefully causing him to be restless. A lot of empty hope, very little concrete options, but better than nothing. And since he died recently, it shouldn't be too difficult.

"Restlessness is relative. The recently dead are almost always restless, save for those who had achieved true peace in this life. Only the truly troubled, the deeply disturbed or traumatized remain restless for extended periods of time. Thus, in determining the viability of spirit summoning, one must take into account the time period since death, as well as the nature of the individual and their death."

_Painful, upsetting death. Check. Possible desire to solve the mystery he was working on, which may have led directly to his death. Check. Recently dead. Check. Focus on that bitter regret, keep the memory of my own death in my mind while chanting the phrases, picture the symbols, hold Auspex active, and keep Paul's name at the mind's forefront, all while maintaining meditative balance within the bubble. I can do this. Serena forced me to practice far harder rituals._

Slipping back into what I was starting to consider the 'morbid meditative state,' I chanted the incantations, staring into the mirror that would allow me to observe the spirit, holding everything carefully in my mind. After about ten minutes of concentration, I saw small tongues of aura burst into being over the body, like a flickering flames dancing in the air – and within the mirror-circle, I saw a barely visible, transparent visage of Paul, standing above his body. I was so taken aback by the success of the ritual I almost broke concentration – but I pulled myself back within the bubble, and continued the ritual. A mere five minutes after the first visages appeared, I heard the wraith of Paul speak to me in deep whispers, and his image had become clear within the reflection, as had the aura-fire outline of a person above the body.

"Aaaaauuuugggh…" Paul moaned pitifully, as though he was in terrible pain but was too exhausted to cry out. Given how he'd died, I suppose it was not too difficult to understand why.

While still holding myself carefully in the meditative state, I spoke to the spirit. "Paul? Is that you? I'm Lucius. I'm a Kindred. I've summoned you to the land of the living to ask you a few questions.

The reflective figure, who had been gazing into nothing with sunken eyes, suddenly turned to me and stared deeply.

I stared back into those eyes and knew absolute despair. Paul wailed, rather than spoke his answers. "Please, help me! It hurts so much… I thought it was nothing at first, just a mild cold… that's how it works, you see! It's insidious, creeping up on you, until it downs you all at once. I was so weak… I knew that if I could just get up, make a call, I could have vampires here, give them answers, have them heal me… but I was so weak… so pathetic… the pain… the pain!"

_Poor guy. What a way to go. Okay, concentrate on getting answers._ "I understand. I've been in positions of helplessness and misery, myself. I'm here to help you. I've been sent by the Anarchs, the vampires you served, to find answers. If you help me, I can track down the source of this plague and make sure no one has to go through this again."

I felt overwhelming gratitude radiate outward, and I saw the aural flamed burst into greater force. "Thank you! You have no idea, the despair, the absolute helplessness – I've felt exactly like I did when I died, barely able to move, unable to escape this apartment. I felt like I was dying all the time. I was so hungry… so desperate for someone seeking answers, for curiosity! It's what drove me my whole life, it's what led me to learn about vampires, and now I _have_ to solve this last mystery! It's all I have left! I won't – I can't let this happen to anyone else!"

_I've provided him with vitality. Good. This is actually quite fulfilling, helping this poor spirit._ "I myself have always been a seeker of answers. My curiosity is what led to my Embrace, and it's what drives my unlife still. Well, that and my sire. Who's suffered final death herself, only not quite… but that's neither here nor there. I've read a good deal of notes about this plague – there's actually a bunch in my briefcase that outline the way the plague has been deliberately spread by hostile Kindred. Unfortunately, it has no specifics, no leads. I need to know – how did you get infected?"

Paul laughed bitterly. "I was so careful in my investigations. I always wore gloves and a mask, I always took the greatest precautions – and in the end, it came from the last place I expected. A friend. A woman I loved. God, so pathetic, falling in love with a whore. But… she wasn't just a whore, you know? I knew to stay away from the streetwalking girls, of course. Goes without saying. But she… she was different. She was classy. More like a call girl. An escort. I'd been going to her for years. We knew each other so well. She didn't even charge me any more. I wanted to help her, support her, let her get out of that life, but I sure as hell didn't have the money, and she had to pay the rent somehow. I wish I'd figured something out, I wish she hadn't had to stay in that life, I wish…" He drifted off.

"Paul." I needed to bring him back on topic. "Who was she? Where is she now?"

"Hannah," Paul choked out. "Her name was Hannah, and I loved her so much. She's probably dead now, but she lived in this building, one story up."

I nodded. "Thank you, Paul. I'm going to go see what I can find out about her, probably by talking to her dead spirit, seeing how she got infected – work my way up the chain. I'll get to the source eventually, I promise."

"Wait!" Paul cried out. "I want to talk to Hannah. I want… I want to come with you! I don't want to be stuck in this room, reliving my dying moments forever! Take me with you! Please! I can help you, I know it!"

I considered his offer. _I suppose having a spirit at my side would be useful. He could feed off my curiosity, and he'd be driven to help me in this task. Plus, I could learn more about the lands of the dead. An excellent educational opportunity._ "Okay, I accept. I'll take part of your body with me so I can summon you later. Just follow me when I leave, I guess. If you have something to tell me, just whisper loudly towards me, I suppose. I mean, I'm not quite sure how all this works, myself. I just learned this ritual for summoning spirits, so I'll use it from time to time."

Paul broke into a big grin. "Thank you so much! You've saved me from hell! I can't wait to see Hannah again – maybe she could come with me, too!"

I smiled to myself. _Yeah, sure why not? Let's just get a big old group of ghosts following me around._ "Okay Paul. I'm ending the ritual. Follow me out the door when I open it. Er… can't you go through walls?"

"I tried. I felt like I could, but I was so weak… I'll try soon. I feel so much stronger now! Almost like I'm alive again…"

I heard the wistful regret in his voice as it trailed off, and I understood that regret. _I'm starting to wish I was still alive a little, too. But hell, at least I have a body. And I'm superhuman! Stop this melancholy._ "Okay. I'm ending the ritual. Let's go talk to Hannah." With that, I ended the meditative technique and cut off Auspex. The aura-being disappeared, as did Paul's form in the mirror. I got to work cleaning up. I wiped the mirror clean and put it back in the bathroom, cleared the chalk, and stuffed the candles into my briefcase. Finally, I took a quick sample of Paul's blood – _might be useful if Strauss can analyze this_ – and cut off his right forefinger. Carefully wrapping the appendage up in a napkin, I put it in my pocket and headed out.

I held the door open for my guest and kept the elevator open for a bit to make sure he was following. _This is kind of weird. _I reached the sixth floor and got to work on the lock. It opened after a few minutes of effort. _I'm getting good at this._

The room was dark and looked like it hadn't been used in a while. There was a newspaper from a few days ago on the table. The place had a stale, dark feel… the feel of death.

I heard a surprised moaning from upstairs. I cautiously ascended. A shout came from inside the nearby room. I opened the door and entered, Auspex activated, unsure what to expect.

A rancid smell assaulted my heightened senses as soon as I entered the place. It smelled of rot and decay. It smelt of urine and sweat. It smelt of disease and death. I saw the flickering aural flames of my ethereal companion dancing over the bed, over the source of the deathly rot – Hannah, still alive, though barely. I heard his shouts, his cries, and her shouts in response.

"Paul?" she cried out, delirious. _How can she hear him? I suppose she must be close to death – almost in his world._ "Paul, where are you?" I walked over to the bed and Hannah stared up at me, wild-eyed. "Paul? Thank god you've-" she stopped, narrowing her eyes at me. "Wait, what… who are you? Where's Paul?"

She made for a pitiful sight. Clad only in her bra and panties, I could see yellow stains on her underwear, running down her thighs, covering the area where she slept. Blood-red puke encrusted her mouth and ran down her chin. A nasty pile of dried, bloody vomit was next to her bed. She could barely hold herself up, and given her heavily emaciated state I could tell that she probably should have died already. _She's probably a primary vector. Just one step away from the source. Ugh, poor thing would have been better off if she'd died already. _

"Uh… Paul's not here. He's dea-" I stopped myself. I didn't need to freak her out. I needed to get answers. "He sent me up to check on you. He's pretty sick and is stuck in bed. You, uh, look pretty bad. How long have you been sick?"

Her eyes lit up. "He did? That's so sweet. Is he doing okay?"

I sighed. "Don't worry about him. How are you?"

"I'm… I'm alright, you know, and I could definitely – what am I thinking? I can't try and work like this. What's wrong with me? I swear, ever since I started feeling off I've just been unable to stop thinking about-" she stopped herself, embarrassed. I could guess what was going on. She'd been blood-bound to become extremely… motivated to take as many clients as possible. _Definitely a primary vector._ "It was just a small cold, nothing serious, sore throat, a little nausea, headache – then it got real bad, and I've just been floored. I can barely move, I can't even get up to…" She looked down at herself and seemed to notice the stains running down her leg. She desperately reached for a blanket to cover her shame, only to collapse from weakness. I pulled a blanket over the poor creature for her.

"It's okay. When did you start feeling like this? Any idea how this started?"

Her head rolled around, barely able to focus on me. "I, uh… one of my clients. I mean… I don't know how they got me sick and all, er…"

I sighed at her absurd attempt to maintain dignity in this situation. _Poor girl._ "Which client? I know what you do for a living. Paul told me. I'm, uh, a medical investigator. I need to know these things to help you, Hannah. Just answer my questions and I can help you get better."

"Um, I mean…" she sighed. "I guess that makes sense. Paul… you know, he wasn't a client or anything. He asked me out to dinner, was the first guy in forever to treat me decently, you know?"

_Stay on topic. Task at hand._ "I know, he's a great guy – and he wants you to get better. And to do that, I need you to answer these questions. Which client do you think got you sick, Hannah?"

"She was just a woman who called me. I don't know how she got my number – I usually only do business by referrals, and she didn't name any of my existing clients – but she offered a _lot_ of money."

_That's suspicious as hell. Kind of stupid on her part, but whatever. _"What was her name?"

"Her name was… Jezebel. Funny, right? Jezebel Locke. I'm usually not too good with names, but hers was so strange… and it's like… like it was burned into my mind, weird as that sounds. She was so…"

_Not weird at all. Burned with the blood of the undead, etched into your blood-bound soul._ "What was she like? Describe her."

"Well, I mean, to tell you the truth I don't really remember a whole lot about that night. Everything's a little blurry, I'm not… well… usually into women, but I remember feeling so attracted to her… I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And I remember this rush of pleasure, like nothing I'd ever experienced… I think she fed me some drug or something, too… and I _never _do drugs, but I would have done anything she asked me to… so weird! Like… like… I haven't really stopped and thought about it since that night until now… like I couldn't, you know?"

_Yeah, I know. I know exactly what's going on here._ "So what else do you remember about her or what happened that night?"

She furrowed her brow, concentrating. "The next thing I remember is when I woke up here the next morning. I felt weird and kinda sick, but also kinda good. And all I could think about was getting with client after client. And… and I wanted women, too. Like… other escorts, whores, the idea of them, like… even for free… it was all I could think of, I was just so… just so…"

She was starting to nod out, barely able to stay awake. "Hannah! Focus! I need to know. Where is Jezebel? Where did you go when you met her?"

"She… she had a room… really nice room… Empire arms hotel… don't remember the number… ugh…"

I nodded. "Thank you. I'll make sure to get you help."

"Please," she weakly mewled. "Tell Paul… tell Paul, thanks for caring. Thanks for… for loving someone like me, okay?" I could hear the subconscious knowledge of her death in her voice.

Even my cold heart shuddered a little for her. "I'm sure he already knows, Hannah." I reached down with my remaining empty syringe and took a sample of her blood for analysis. She barely noticed. I patted her on the head. "Goodbye, you poor thing." With that, I turned from her and walked out the door."

As I descended the stairs, I hear a loud, angry whispering assaulting my ears, bothering the hell out of me. I activated Auspex and the words became clear. Paul was speaking to me.

"What are you doing? She's dying! She's in pain! You need to help her!"

I sighed, annoyed. "What do you want me to do? I don't have a cure for her."

"You're a vampire! Feed her your blood! She'll get better!"

"She's sick because she drank infected blood. She'll still be infected and just get sick again. And whoever fed her their blood forced her to be focused upon sleeping around, spreading the disease. She'll just go right back to that, getting others sick."

"So what the hell are you going to do? Just let her suffer and die?"

_Uh… yeah, that was kind of what I was doing, though I didn't think of it that way… god, am I really that calloused? Have I lost so much humanity that I would let that poor Heather girl from the hospital die if I encountered her now?_ My earlier fear, that my lack of humanity was making me more and more alien, came back in full force. _But really, what can I do? I mean…_

"Look, I'll talk to the Anarchs at the Last Round, I'll talk with Strauss at the Chantry… Strauss will know what to do once he's analyzed her blood. I'm sure there's some kind of cure available. I'm not really qualified to help her, and I don't even know what will happen if she's double blood-bound. Better to leave this kind of thing to the experts. Trust me on this, Paul."

There was silence for a while… and then, "Alright. You've done nothing but good so far. I'm in over my head. I trust you. Just promise you'll do what you can to help her, okay?"

"I promise," I replied, even as I wondered how true that really was, and wondered at what depths of manipulation I was starting to fall into. Was I just saying whatever would appease Paul because I didn't want to deal with his incessant whining? Or was I going to truly spend time and effort trying to appease the whims of one already dead? _Great. I can either be a cold, manipulative bastard or a weak-willed idiot. My existence is just full of wonderful options, isn't it?_


	30. Chapter 29: Rock that Blood

**Hey again, everyone! Just popping up a quick, short little chapter that should pack one hell of an emotional punch, despite its small size. You'll see what I mean. Just try to stay open minded… it makes sense within the context of the game, trust me. Also, you may have noticed that the italicized words were running into each other. Not idea why, but fixed it as soon as I realized what was going on. Thanks again, rednightmare!  
**

**Utuu – I am always glad to see new readers, and really appreciate you dropping me a review! I hope to keep up a decent chapter posting pace, so you'll be seeing plenty of my story – just keep checking your inbox for story alerts! And thanks for the timeline clarification – unfortunately, I've kind of committed to around September 2003, unless I feel like going back and rewriting a bunch to avoid continuity errors. Which I could do, I suppose.**

**SpecialAgentOrange – "Shit happens – deal with it," could sum up most of Bloodlines. Well, that and helplessness, being in the dark, being put in a situation where you're set up to fail and succeeding anyway – hell, those sound like key themes for most of the WOD, actually. And as for screwing with Damsel's head – I don't see Lucius doing that intentionally. Unintentionally, though, or as the result of some kind of external manipulation… we'll see. Nines is too unflappable to be screwed with, and always will be. He might be losing to LaCroix, but he would **_**never**_** be screwed with by him. Much unlike Joey, who practically exists to be screwed with. And why on earth would I make an emotionally disturbed OC with a somewhat antagonistic relationship to Lucius a recurring character? It's not like there's any potential for character development of drama there, nosiree… Thanks for your praise on me writing Pisha, she's going to be a recurring character that creates a lot of interesting moral dilemmas for Lucius, I guarantee it. I also appreciate your praise of the change in tone, the story is slowly but steadily moving in a new direction… though this chapter will be a bit of a sharp turn in an overall arc. Hopefully equal parts jarring and fascinating, though. And as for summoning 101 – this is going to be a huge part of Lucius' skills and development, though I'd like to point out that Serena, being an astrally projected umbral apparition, is not subject to powers that control the dead wraiths of the underworld. At least, that's how I interpret it. Feel free to correct me if you've got some quote from the necromancy sourcebook that contradicts me, of course! I always can appreciate being out-nerded. :)**

**Magus137 – You read through my entire story in one sitting? 8O Dude… you're like the best speed-reader in the world. Congratulations! I'm genuinely flattered that you've felt so engrossed in my story, despite playing through bloodlines so much! That's really my greatest fear – that anyone who's played the game more than once will get completely bored with this fic after awhile. So you've managed to address one of my core fears in your review! See, you don't suck at constructive criticism. And as for expressing your thoughts, I think "holy shitballs" gets the job done just fine. Thanks for the nerdgasms! I'll cherish them forever!**

**Rednightmare – Thanks for once again taking up your old role of beta-reader. I really just wanted to make sure the thematic direction I was going in was solid, but your grammar/structural help is always extremely appreciated, as well! As usual, you go above and beyond. And thank you for not posting spoilers in the review – I know it must be tempting to show off that you have access to 'secret information' and all, but you can't go ruining every surprise for the rest of the readers, now can you? That would just be cruel… well excessively cruel. As BB proves, you don't have a problem with moderate cruelty. XD I have to say, if at this point corpse mutilation still bothered Lucius, I'd suspect him of being a little deranged. Which he kind of is – I don't know if you noticed how terrifying he finds the thought of running into the Sabbat or a Tzimisce while skulking around the hospital, but he has developed something of a phobia… which should prove interesting when he finds out what he has to deal with in Hollywood, for sure. In the meantime, though, Lucius' attempts to please his new Anarch buddies could lead to all kinds of hilarity, as his academic skills are thrown at those who have no idea how to use them – which is a real shame, as I imagine that they have a serious shortage in that department. I mean, how many people join the revolution to be a filing clerk? How well can you run a wartime operation without proper logistics? Just sayin', the Anarchs are probably not going to appreciate how much they need ol' Lu. Their loss, I suppose. In the meantime, as Lucius already admitted 'I don't really mind being a bitch.' Guess who's going to be taking advantage of that to death? Damsel, because she's into that kind of thing! XD I doubt it, actually – she comes across to me as a left-wing feminist prude, almost as bad as a right-wing religious fundamentalist prude. She'll just bark orders and be pissed that Lucius is into obeying them. I really don't get where all the swooning comes from over her at all. I almost want to write in some kind of sympathetic personality trait to justify it all… nah. She can just stay a hateful bitch. Nines, on the other hand, is far too practical to be upset at anything that gives him a bit of power or advantage. As for Paul, I really wanted to come up with another recurring OC without making some kind of obnoxious 'sidekick.' A hovering spirit works perfectly! Expect some strange interactions from him… and other spirits as well. And expect them all to start to get on Lucius' nerves. And while summoning a spirit may be easy, getting them to leave you alone is far more difficult. Maybe Lucius will end up going to the Giovanni before the mansion mission? Or making some kind of deal with Pisha… or resorting to some kind of Chantry trick… or something else I decide on later. :P**

**I'm going to add "Pathetic imitation of Decency" to "Injurious Decoration" on the list of good literary phrases.**

**Hope you all enjoy the wild ride Lucius is about to go on!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I wandered out into the dark streets, and every passing pedestrian filled me with a primal hunger. The beast within me roared, and I was forced to steel myself to avoid leaping at the nearest blood-bag and feeding. We were constantly looking around, trying to find a lone kine in a back alley, evaluating every individual for their feeding potential. I felt like what I was – a predator among flocks of prey.

_Got to calm down, got to maintain. _I passed a cop talking with a CDC agent. _Not only do I have the Masquerade to deal with, but I also have to worry about feeding from infected blood. Can't even pay a whore – which would take all my money, anyway. Where can I…_ My thoughts were answered by the looming cathedral ahead of me, and the throbbing bass blasting out from it. _Clean feeding, friendly ownership… perfect._

I walked past the line and up to the two burly guards. "Hello, gentlemen. Venus told me I could get in with no cover charge last night. I need to speak with her. So, if you don't mind…"

One of them scowled down at me. "How stupid do you think we are? Get in line."

Normally I would have been more prudent, but I was in no mood for bullshit. I needed blood – _now_. "Listen to me very carefully. You're going to let me in, or you're going severely regret it. I can do things to you that you couldn't even imagine. Now, I suggest you contact Venus and tell her that Lucius wants to talk with her, and I suggest you do it quickly."

The man sneered down at me and grabbed a taser from his waistband. Those in line were now staring, rapt. "Oh yeah? You want to back that shit up? I'll show you pain, little man. How about I drag you out back and-"

His companion, who'd been standing stoically this whole time, put his hand on the aggressive one's shoulder. "Wait." He pulled out a walkie-talkie and called in. "Venus. We have a situation. There's an individual here making threats to us. He's claiming you said he could get in without cover charge. His name is Lucius. Please advise us on what to do."

There were a few moments of silence so tense they felt like they could explode. Then Venus defused the situation. "Oh yes, please send him in right away. Good to have you back, Lucius! Do try not to abuse my staff in the future, yes?"

The aggressive one did a double-take. "But-"

"Go ahead, sir," the stoic one instructed. With a nod, I strode inside.

The courtyard was too crowded for any secret feeding. I quickly entered the church proper, unsure how I was going to pull this off.

The club was enveloped in a throbbing sound and a writhing crowd that was driving me wild. The sweaty smell of flesh excited my mind with thoughts of the sweet sustenance swimming within. I licked my lips. _Maintain, gotta maintain._ I pulled back into the bubble and recalled the lessons Serena had taught me about controlling oneself in crowds. Moving carefully through the throng, I dropped my coat and suitcase off at a coat check so as not to look so formal, and headed over to the bar.

I sat down next to a perky girl with searching eyes and brown hair, who was wearing a leather jacket and jeans. I tried to flag down Venus, but she was extremely busy with an endless line of customers. I sighed even as my stomach screamed in protest. _What good would talking with her do, anyway? I need blood now. _I looked around, and saw that the girl was staring at me. She smiled when my eyes landed on her. _Worth a shot. God I'm hungry._

"Hey." I opened the conversation in the most generic way possible.

Her response was far more enthusiastic than I expected. "I knew you'd talk to me. I swear, you are all like, totally drawn to me." I raised an eyebrow at her. Her voice was a mixture of nasal, self-assured eagerness. "I'm surprised I don't know you. I usually meet all the LA vampires out on the scene." My dead heart flipped in my ribcage at that last comment. _Calm down, she's probably just a ghoul like Knox who doesn't know the meaning of discretion. _"Not a lot of you out tonight, which is weird, because I don't know of any parties going on-"

I wasn't about to activate Auspex to confirm that she was 'of the blood' – not enough blood in me, and the crowd and music in this place would overwhelm me. I took a calculated risk, in the hope I could feed off her easily. "Are you a ghoul?"

She just gave me a reassuring smile, not seeming worried at all. "Yeah, come on. It's totally cool. I'm Patty. I'm Kent Alan Ryan's ghoul. You know him?"

I shook my head even as I smiled. _Feeding should be quite manageable._ "Nope. Though, I'm pretty new to the LA undead scene myself. What's he look like?"

"He's a Toreador. Really good looking, long black hair, thin figure, a sharp face and a thin nose that's, like, to die for. Dresses really well, like, all Prada usually."

"Nope, can't say I've seen anyone like that. I'll keep an eye out." _So her master isn't here… perfect! I just need to find the right way to Dominate her, and…_

She seemed crestfallen. "Figures. Thanks anyway. So, uh… what's your name?"

I tried to give her a decent smile. "Lucius. Lucius Marshall. Nice to meet you, Patty." She took my hand and shook it vigorously, and I could feel her trembling, despite her confident facade.

"You're pretty cool. Way more polite than most of the vampires I meet these days. You're a lot like Kent like that." I could see a wistful sadness pass across her face for a moment before she composed herself again.

_I need to figure out what's going on with this ghoul. Where's her master? _"Is Kent around? Does he feed here often?"

A longing entered her eyes. "He used to. It was our favorite spot, before…" she suddenly pulled back to our conversation and looked back to me. "Um, before he left to take care of some business. He should be back soon, I'm sure. I just wish he'd told me how long he'd be gone. Why do you ask?"

_**Because I need to know if there's any risk to sucking you dry, lick!**__ Finally, time to cut to the chase… I'm getting more hungry by the second._ "Well, I'm not exactly familiar with feeding in a crowded place like this. I was hoping to get some advice from him. Um… you wouldn't happen to…"

She broke into an open smile. "Oh, for sure! I mean, hell, feel free to feed on me, I absolutely love the feeling!" I wasn't expecting it to be _this_ easy. "I'm sure Kent wouldn't mind. I mean, after all, he didn't tell me I couldn't and if he wanted to keep me to himself he should have taken me with him, anyway." I licked my lips at the realization that she was practically throwing herself at any passing Vampire. _God, what a beautiful gift to just drop in my lap! _"Oh, but if you're really hungry, I can help snag someone else, too." I was completely taken aback now. _Is this real? Do I care?_ "I used to help Kent with this all the time. See, it's a lot easier to get loners to feel comfortable if you're a couple, because that's way less intimidating. I'm, like, an expert at scoping out and getting girls to come to 'the spot.' See, there's this spot, right at the back of the club, that's perfect. It's like, dark, secluded, comfortable." I was simply agape now. She reached out and grabbed my hand. "Come with me, I'll have you downing the sweet stuff in no time."

I was somewhat suspicious of all this, but too hungry to really care. She led me deeper into the club, as I was drawn along through the vast pool of potential meals. We were deep in the middle of the crowd, deep in the midst of throbbing life essence that writhed in time to a beat that was echoed in hundreds of heartbeats that blasted out in time to the music. I couldn't concentrate on any one person, I was just overwhelmed by the mass of blood all around me, and knew that it was just a matter of time before I lost control, before I started indiscriminately, feeding like a wild animal, before...

We halted. Patty leaned into me and whispered into my ear. "I just spotted the perfect target. Right behind me, in the red skirt and black tank top. She's obviously nervous but out to have a good time." I spotted the beautiful creature and went weak at the knees. I licked my lips. She didn't see me, thankfully. "Just follow my lead, and you'll be feeding in no time."

We started dancing. Patty was obviously more experienced at this than me – I was only just sort of lightly moving back and forth to the music, though the throb of blood in time to the beat had me moving a bit more enthusiastically than I normally would be. Patty, however, was gyrating with far more motion and energy, seeming to lose herself to the rhythm, and I could hear her heartbeat coming to match it, driving me up the wall. I was breaking down to the point of considering just feeding directly from her, right then and there. Right as I was terrified that the last of my will was sapped, Patty looked over to the woman, smiled, and motioned her over. The woman saw us and ducked her head, embarrassed. I looked over at her and smiled deeply. _I can hold out a little longer in order to rake this one in._ I looked back over to Patty and continued dancing, letting her take the lead on this. She did so promptly, taking me by the hand and leading me over to our prey.

"Hey there." Patty was all smiles, all inviting. She immediately put the woman at ease. She had short black hair that ended at her ears, and a long, supple neck that was all but beckoning to me. It was all I could to do keep from salivating. "I don't think we've seen you around here before, have we honey?" I shook my head, playing along. "We're regulars here. This place has the best ambiance, don't you think?"

She was relaxing with each word Patty was saying. "Yeah. I'd heard about this spot and wanted to check it out for a while. The whole place is just out of sight. And that bartender is really amazing." She tittered a little at that last comment.

"Oh, you mean Venus," I added. "She actually owns this place. Really fascinating person. I'm good friends with her." _An exaggeration, but whatever gets her next to me in a secluded area as soon as possible. _

Her eyes widened a little, and a smile crossed her face. "Really? That's amazing. I love that she takes such a... hands-on approach to this, you know?"

Patty was all but laughing now. "Yeah, she really looks like she knows how to _handle_ things. I always love a strong, independent woman in charge of stuff, don't you?"

The woman was blushing, now, and giggling like a girl. I decided to interject, wanting to get to her as quickly as possible. "What's your name? I'm Luke."

"Oh, uh, I'm Cynthia. Nice to meet you!" We shook hands, and I felt electrified by her living touch. She turned to Patty. "And you are?"

"Patty. I'm pretty much a walking scene enhancer. Not to toot my own horn. So hey, Luke, what do you say to buying us a couple of drinks?"

I just smiled, already getting a sense for what would work with Cynthia. "Sure, whatever you say, Patty." With that, Patty led us further back into the crowd.

_This game is actually pretty fun. Feeding to my heart's content, in the middle of a crowded club – I've never really done this before, even with Danielle – she'd been up on the balcony, away from everyone_. This was far more dangerous, far more exciting – the thrill of almost being out of control, riding the wave of desperate need and scarcely holding on – provided I pulled it off, provided I didn't break down and lose control before I successfully completed this game.

We reached a dark alcove in the back. It was a semicircular padded booth around a circular table. There was a nearby minibar back here. Patty led Cynthia over to the booth, and I walked up to the bar and spent most of my money on a couple of fruity drinks. I wandered back to the booth and sat down, impatient with this little ritual, desperately needing to sink my fangs into a vein _now._

"Thank you, dear," Patty intoned. She slid one of the drinks over to Cynthia. "Cyntia and I were just discussing how wonderful it is that places like LA are full of experimentally-minded people, weren't we?"

"Yeah, for real," Cynthia replied as she began sipping on her drink. "Unlike the rest of the country, where it feels like we're going back to the middle ages. I sometimes feel like California is the last free place in the world."

I stopped thinking about feeding for a second to think over what she said. _She's actually hit the nail right on the head – princes and religious death cults everywhere else, and a small group of democracy-supporting freedom-fighters on the west coast._ "You're right. California is the last free place in America. At least we still have the west coast."

Patty raised her glass. "To California – where we can still sleep with whoever we want." The two women clinked their glasses together and downed half their drinks.

_Okay, so now how do I get my fangs in her? I'm sick of this game, I need to-_ Patty edged herself onto my lap and started nibbling on my ear, even as she whispered to me. "She's right where we want her, just give me a second..." Patty motioned Cynthia over. She obliged, obviously excited and nervous. Patty moved over to her and locked lips. Cynthia closed her eyes in pleasure, even as she arced her head back, exposing a vast expanse of supple neck, and I broke down completely. I moved in for the bite, and the feeling when my fangs punctured her neck was exquisite. I broke down almost crying at the absolute release, the complete relief from fear. Vitality and energy blasted my mind into heights of ecstasy, fulfilling me completely as I shuddered in absolute pleasure. I slipped away on a wave of memories that whipped by me so fast that it was a blur. I saw countless sexual encounters, and felt the feelings of lust fill me with each burst of blood that filled my mouth and my mind. I felt her life ebb away and I felt a terrible resonance with the memory of what happened to Sherry. Sherry cried out in my mind, echoing with the memory of Pisha's revelation. Guilt and horror poisoned the joy of Cynthia's blood, and I pulled my fangs out with a tremendous effort.

The blood was dripping over my teeth and down my throat and I nearly broke down in ecstatic pleasure once again. I licked my lips and leaned into her neck. I could smell the sensuous odor of vitae, and my fangs extended unconsciously. _ No, she's already drained enough._ I licked her wounds away, settling for a final taste and covering my tracks.

I looked up and realized that Patty had been making out with Cynthia the entire time. I was amused and a little weirded out. Patty looked over at me and pulled her lips away, dropping Cynthia onto the couch like a discarded ragdoll. She was panting deeply, and I found myself responding to her desire. She straddled me and gripped my collar. I wasn't as desperate for blood as I had been, but I still wanted more. It was strange, but it was as though lust had reawakened in me after that meal. She clamped her lips onto mine, shoving her tongue into my mouth. My eyes widened for a moment, before I gave in to the lust and the hunger. I bit into her tongue and felt the spurts of sweet liquid fill my mouth. I sucked on her wound and shuddered as Patty moaned, whirling her tongue around mine.

I wanted more. I pulled my mouth from hers. Patty arched her head back, panting, exposing her neck to me. I dove in and penetrated the thin skin between my fangs and her blood. I saw her life flash before my eyes in little spurts and pieces as undulating waves of pleasure burst into my mouth and mind. I saw a girl that had spent her life desperate for approval, who never had a father that had been there, who'd needed male approval and validation to feel complete. She'd been obsessed with fashion, she'd been obsessed with getting boys to like her, she'd adopted an 'I'm too cool to care about what you think about me' attitude because that's what got her the most attention, because she cared so very much about what others thought of her. Patty had been in so very many sexual encounters, they flew past me and whipped me into absolute lust. I felt very human sexual drive blast into me, and I felt alive again as this life-affirming impulse filled me.

I pulled my fangs out and pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, blasting back to life. Patty reached her hand up to her neck and started rubbing her blood, which was trickling out of the two puncture wounds. I felt something strange between my legs. Something delightful. I looked down and saw that she was massaging me with her other hand. And I realized something. I was hard.

_How the hell…_ I opened my mouth to speak and Patty put her bloody fingers into it. I couldn't help but suck the vitae off her fingers, one by one. She put her fingers up to her mouth and giggled at me. I couldn't explain what was going on, and I didn't care. I was so completely lost in this wild sensation, I could barely think through the haze, barely able to formulate a question. "How the hell are you doing this? I'm dead. I can't… I can't…"

Patty smiled at me mischievously. "Can't what? Have sex? Why not? If I'm drunk…" Patty took one of the drinks on the table and downed it in one swig to make her point. "…and you drink from me…" She bit into her wrist hard, causing blood to stream and trickle down. "…you get drunk." She shoved her wrist up to my mouth and I licked the long stream of red up her forearm, before sucking a spurt of blood into my mouth, wracking me with another wave of vitae-fulfillment and lust, as well as alcoholic pleasure. "Oh, god yes!" Patty moaned. I pulled my mouth away from the wound, wanting more answers. She looked at me with intense desire in her eyes. "What do you think happens if you drink from me when I'm turned on? Same thing. Vampires can't do it on their own, they need a living being, a hot ghoul to have sex, but it's totally doable. Kent and I used to do this all the time. It's amazing. Just make me come and drink from me at the moment of orgasm. The two sensations together are just fucking fantastic. There's no greater feeling in the whole world!" She reached down and pulled her jacket open, before grabbing her top, pulling down, and exposing herself even as she continued fondling me.

_What the fuck… this is crazy. This girl is crazy. And… and why should I care? I'm still hungry. This still feels good. Why the fuck not? There's so many pleasures I'm not allowed to indulge in. Feeding to death. Kindred Vitae. I don't have to fear her. She's just a ghoul – she can't fuck me over like Jeanette could. Why not take this little indulgence? I'm so sick of constant discipline, constant abstinence. I haven't felt this good in far too long._ I leaned down and bit into her tender breast, right above the heart.

I felt life-affirming pleasure rocking my mind, my world. I felt her insane desire give me the shakes. I saw her first encounter with Kent, the way he'd drawn her in and put her on a pedestal, making her feel truly affirmed. I saw the parties they'd been to, the games they played to draw in prey, the way they'd played with their food. I saw countless kinky blood-sex games, warped ways of bringing Kent to climax, and the flash of images turned me on immensely. I sucked at her bloody breast and she moaned sensually, holding my head gently.

She began to gently pull my head away and I complied, lust and lack of serious hunger making me much more compliant. I looked into her eyes and saw my wild abandon reflected in them. With a smile, she slid off of me and began kneeling between my legs, unzipping my pants. I watched as she began to go to work on me with her lips. One hand she slid between her own legs, down her pants, while she held the other one up to me, the one where the wrist had already been torn open. I bit into her and slowly, steadily felt lust and life lift me up, each of us sucking on the other. Each drink heightened my libido and pleasure, driving me further and further towards complete abandon. I felt Patty's pleasure flow into me and become mine, and our joy rose and rose like a towering mountain of ecstasy. Suddenly, I heard her start moaning and screaming around her mouthful, and then I took one final, deep, intense drink, and…

I was completely blasted over the edge. It wasn't the same as a living orgasm – something about it felt fake, and I knew that the pleasure was another's, that I had stolen it. Even so, it was compounded by blood pleasure, and was quite possibly the most amazing thing I'd experienced in my undead existence – with the possible exception of drinking another Kindred's vitae. I shuddered, arched my head back, and screamed as I exploded forth black blood. Patty immediately started sucking the vitae directly from me until I was spent and exhausted. I collapsed onto the couch, laying my head on Cynthia's lap. I looked over at Patty, who was licking the last few drops of my blood from her fingers. That's when it hit me. That's when I realized what I'd just done. What Patty had done.

"Wait… wait a second! You manipulative whore! You used me! You just wanted my blood, you addict!"

She finished shamelessly licking up the last drops of my Kindred vitae. She looked at me with proud, defiant eyes. "So? You used me. I got you the blood you needed. I showed you an amazing time. You should have known this was going to happen. Think about it. Kindred sweat blood, they cry blood – of course you're going to cum blood!" She laughed. "Sorry, I thought you knew. Hehe! So that makes you a vampire virgin! This is your first time climaxing without a pulse, isn't it?" I was about to make an angry comment, but I was embarrassed enough that I briefly looked away. "It is! So I'm your first! Was it good for you?"

I glared over at her, but I couldn't really summon too much anger. I was basking in a delightful glow, both from being fed and getting laid. "Don't dodge the subject! I don't want you as my ghoul. I didn't say you could have my blood."

"Why wouldn't you want me as a ghoul? Look at what I can do! I'll get you blood-dolls, I'll give you amazing pleasure… and you agreed to give me your blood when you decided to orgasm. You could have said no and stopped this at any time. But really, it's not that bad. It was totally worth it, wasn't it?"

_Yeah… oh, fucking hell, what am I thinking? This is a mess I don't want to wade into._ Even so, I couldn't help but like her after what she'd made me feel, after the joy she brought me. _And she could be useful in the future…_ "It was nice. I don't know if it was worth it. I need to think about this. There's a lot on my mind right now. I'll talk to you later."

Patty pouted. "No cuddling? Hmph. Kent was so much gentler. Typical man. Fuck and leave. Well fine. You'll be back. I know you will." She crawled up onto the couch. I scrambled backwards over Cynthia. Patty settled her head on Cynthia's lap, resting her chin on her wrists. "You're not going to forget your first time. I'll get you inside me again – I'll get your fangs inside me again. You can't get enough of this sweet stuff." She licked her lips and then her wrist, laughing the whole time.

I quickly buttoned up my pants, disconcerted by the whole situation. I turned around and left, her laughter following me through the crowd until it was drowned out by the music. As I moved through the crowd, I thought about what I'd just done. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Thinking with my dick! I should have known better than to trust free blood. There's always a fucking catch. There's always a fucking downside. Still… I did need blood, and I got it before frenzying. I did get intense pleasure, I did get to experience absolute ecstasy. I can't get over that… good god that was amazing! I kind of want to go back to her, and… and… and what? God, what am I thinking? Give Patty my blood? Fuck, I don't need another responsibility, another liability. No, no, fuck this. I can't get tangled up in this mess. I'm broke, I'm in the middle of a political mess, and I need to find a way to get free. I don't even know how…_

I made it across the dance floor and over to the bar. Venus was still running around, serving drinks, but the crowd around the bar had thinned out considerably. I wandered to the bar sat down, exhausted and confused

While I waited, I thought. _How much of a problem is this? I can't stop thinking about what happened, about how good that felt. Is this the start of some kind of addiction? And what about Patty? She's clearly a discarded ghoul, desperate for Kindred blood. So now that she's got a taste of mine... how worried should I be about that? Just what I needed, another mess to deal with. God, I could use a cigarette to calm my nerves down. Ha! I'm just lurching from one addiction to the next. And to think, I spent my whole life staying drug-free, because I was so terrified of the loss of control that comes with such dependencies. _Venus caught sight of me and her eyes lit up upon seeing me. She immediately sauntered over and leaned on the bar, striking up conversation. "Well hello there, Lucius! So what's this I hear about you threatening my burly staff? Quite foolish… or brave, depending on how you look at it."

I smiled back at her. _Something sane and explicable. Thank god. As I recall, she seemed interested in my services. _ _If she wants me to do what I think she does, I should act tough. I need money, now. Yeah, just focus on money, that's easy and explicable. _"I was just letting them know what would happen if they tried to hurt me, that's all. Good to see you again, Venus."

She beamed a smile at me. "How very machismo of you. Did you complete your business at the Last Round last night?"

I nodded. "I met with a few people, took care of something for them. Meeting with them later tonight. But I've got some free time, though not much. So I figured I'd come by and talk with you. You seemed to want to bring up something last night, before I left."

Venus looked down and to the left, biting her lower lip, contemplating for a few seconds. Then she looked me over, assessing me. "If your day job is what I think it is, you might be able to help me with something. See… I need you to deliver a message."

"What kind of message? To who?"

Her eyes went down and to the left again. "Well, you see, I've got this situation that's got a little out of hand I need you to tell some business associates they aren't getting paid this month. Interested?"

I immediately recognized that this was a dangerous, loaded situation. _Still, probably only involves humans, so I should be fine._ "Maybe. Give me the details."

"Go to the parking lot next to the empire arms hotel. Couple of guys, Russian accents, a bit thick. I need you to tell them Venus doesn't have their money. That's it."

I looked at her wryly. "That's it?"

She gave me a beaming smile. "That's it! Real simple, no?"

I eyed her askance. "That's it? No complications? Your 'business associate' isn't going to be upset that they aren't getting paid? Like violently upset?"

Her smile cracked. "He might be a little cross, yes. Just try and talk him down. I'd go, but as you can see, I'm quite busy, and-"

I cut her off. _I already know what's going on, but if there's one thing that's been pissing me off about my new existence, it's the constant lies, it's the lack of reliable information, it's the way I can never seem to know what exactly I'm getting into. Like with Patty. _"Listen to me, Venus. There's one rule I have about his kind of thing. I need to have all the information when I do something for you. I can handle violence if necessary, but I need to know what exactly I'm walking into. So I'll ask you again – what am I going to have to deal with once I tell this 'business associate' the bad news? And how much am I getting paid for this?"

Her eyes went downwards, and Venus laughed. "I can see you've done this before. Alright, alright. My business partner and I have had a little falling out. He's… going to be angry. He might attack you. He might head over to the Confession and try and attack me. If he does either of those… well, would you mind taking care of it? I'll pay you handsomely. Let's say… $300, and afterward we'll talk about a way you could perhaps obtain a more permanent income. What do you say?"

_Yes, of course! Like Jack said, obtaining money and territory is vital to surviving. I'm not going anywhere without resources. A couple of human thugs should be easy to handle. If they aren't human… Well, I still have Purge. It can give me cover to escape if need be. _"Alright, I'll do it. I'll be back in like… whenever. I expect my money then. Got it?"

Venus was beaming. "Of course! Josef – that's his name – will be waiting for me just outside the east end parking deck. Go deliver the message, and deal with whatever happens. Anyhow, a lot of people still have to confess to the beat priestess. Later, darling." With that, she turned to the next customer and proceeded to see to the night's business. I got up, grabbed my coat and suitcase, and headed out.

I smiled at the bouncers as I walked out of the property. I was a little nervous about this, but not too worried. At this point, whatever happened couldn't be any more screwed up than anything I'd already had to deal with. I didn't know quite how to judge my situation at this point – I felt like there were many ways I could gain resources and opportunities, and many ways I could tie myself down with addiction and responsibilities, screwing myself over. I had to tread carefully… but I had to act, as well. I needed to get _something_ to my name. _And besides, this will take my mind off the whole mess that happened in the confession. God, is violence starting to become comforting and familiar to me?_

I walked over to the parking deck. There was a group of three individuals standing outside it. I walked past them, having obviously found my mark. I activated Auspex and confirmed that they were normal humans, even if they were built like Buicks and probably armed to the teeth. _Easy enough._ I found a sewer grate inside the parking deck, out of sight. I pulled out my tire iron and opened the manhole, getting ready to run if I needed to. Then I turned around and walked back outside.

I wandered up to the trio. They tensed at my approach, hands reaching into jacket pockets that clearly contained concealed weapons. I gave them a nice smile. "Hello, gentlemen. Might I assume that one of you is Josef?" The central one simply nodded. "Good to meet you. My name is Luke. I'm here on behalf of Venus." I extended my hand to the individual in question. He ignored my gesture and looked me over with hard, calculating eyes.

"Confession bitch send you?" he snarled in a heavy accent.

_Well. I see that attempts at smooth-talk are going nowhere. Let's just be direct, then._ "Yes, she did."

"Money, where is money?" He stared directly at my suitcase, obviously expecting it to be in there.

I realized that telling him that I didn't have it would do no good. _Can't talk my way out of this. _So instead, I figured I'd trick the simpleton. "I've got it right here," I said as I reached into my jacket. I pulled out my handgun, leveled it at Josef, and shot him directly in the face.

All three of them pulled out semiautomatic weapons as soon as they saw my gun come out. I'd managed to shoot Josef before any shots rang out. Before he'd even hit the ground, I was being riddled with lead. _Nothing I didn't go through within an hour of my embrace. _I pushed through the pain, staying in the bubble, and leveled the gun at the man on the left, shooting him directly in the face as well. Bullets continued to riddle me. I continued to stay calm, focusing on healing these injuries and leveling the gun at the third person. His eyes widened as he realized the bullets weren't downing me the way they should, and turned to run. I knew I could let him leave, but... _Don't need whatever mob they're clearly in gunning for me. _I fired at him as he ran away. As terrible as my aim was, I did manage to hit him in the leg, causing him to stumble and fall. I walked over to the injured, helpless individual, who was now screaming and praying in Russian. I calmly walked up to him, pointed the gun at his head, and pulled the trigger, splattering his brains over the asphalt.

_That was cathartic._ I wandered over to Josef and picked up his submachine gun. _Very nice. Very useful._ I pocketed it in some of my concealed suit jacket straps. I reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, scoring about $100 in cash. That was when I heard the sirens.

_Time to move_. I ran over to the parking deck, hopped down the manhole, sealed the sewer grate from the inside, and hopped into the tunnels, away from the crime scene. _Much cleaner escape than the last time I did this. It feels like I'm getting better at this whole Kindred thing… so why do I feel less and less in control of the situation? Or am I just starting to be aware enough to realize how much of a pawn I really am? I mean, if a ghoul like Patty could manipulate me like that, how many Kindred strings am I dancing to that I haven't even seen yet?_


	31. Chapter 30: The Damned and the Lost

**Hello again, dear readers (those of you still left after my sabbatical, that is.) I could go into details about why I've been silent for so long, but I'll just leave it at this: sometimes life picks you up like a whirlwind, and throws you around like a leaf. You make plans, put down roots, but sometimes life just has other plans for you. One minute you're in the city of wind, staying on the straight and narrow, fighting the good fight. Next thing you know, you're halfway across the continent, existing on the edge of a vortex, living in a group home that you created, and find yourself chasing after enlightenment and self-awareness. So it goes. However, expect many new chapters in quick succession soon.**

**Magus 137 – Sorry for making you take such a long break, considering your tremendous literary appetites. I'm sure you've been antsy in anticipation. All I can say is that the speed of updates will be coming quite rapidly soon. Thank you so much for your appreciation of my characterization – I'm trying to bring as much life as possible into what would otherwise be a rather dead retelling of a story that's already been told. I'm especially pleased that I was able to allow you to experience Bloodlines again from a different perspective. Puts a smile on my face.**

**Clockwork the Great – so glad to see a new reader! I try and flesh the story out and make each character more than the simple encounter you have in the game. Speaking of which, this chapter and this story are going to get highly involved in one character that I felt the game never did justice to…**

**Special Agent Orange – As always, your analysis is spot on – you've hit on key themes that I'm going to address in my story: the nature of death, desire, power, morality, and how one can navigate these things without becoming a monster. Not going to go into any more details, but I will say that I appreciate you saying I've expanded the game universe.**

**Rednightmare – So sorry I've been incommunicado, contact me some time for details. I appreciate your help with the pacing – I was trying to do exactly that, make the final revelation a terrible slap in the face, a jolting break of flow. As for Patty hunting Lucius – he's going to be put in a rather difficult situation in regards to her very soon. That's all I'm going to say for now. And Lucius is far from confident – he turned to violence because it was something familiar to him, which is in and of itself indicative of how much he's changed, and how much his new unlife is changing him into a callous monster without him even realizing it. But a rude awakening is in the works, trust me…**

… … …

I walked briskly through the sewers, putting distance between me and the scene of the crime.

"What was that?" the voice of Paul whispered in my ear.

I stopped, startled by the voice, forgetting for a moment who's it was and why I was being followed. I stopped and listened - it was silent. No pursuers. I was safe. "What was what?"

Paul's whispering voice was only clear because of the silence. "The whole thing up in The Confession."

"Um..." I thought for a second, the entire situation having disoriented me a bit. "You mean the whole deal with those guys I shot for Venus?"

"No no," Paul replied. I could hear him more clearly, as I was now focusing on tuning into the voice of the dead. I touched his finger, and suddenly his voice was clearly audible if I concentrated. "I got that. Venus owed some mob guys or something money and you made it so she didn't have to pay protection. I was talking about that whole thing with that girl... what's her name? Patty?"

"Oh, er, that." I didn't really know what to make of the situation - I'd been avoiding thinking about it. It was just so... weird. "She's, uh... addicted to vampire blood. She's a ghoul, like you. She doesn't have a regular supply, so... I guess she just kind of does what she has to for a taste."

"Um... okay. I was just curious. It was confusing. I can't stand an unsolved mystery, you know? Strange, though... she was crying after you left. Do you think she's ashamed of what she does?"

"She was? That's... as sad as it is disturbing. Why would she do that if she finds it demeaning? Oh, right. The blood. Is it really that..." But I already knew the answer to that question.

"That what? That good? That addictive? Yeah. It's the most amazing sensation ever. I mean, like... once you taste it, it's like all you can think of. All you want to do is please whoever gives you your fix. Because without it, you just feel so weak and pathetic, so completely worthless. And the thing is, unlike with other drugs, it's not just a feeling. You really are that weak compared to how you were with the blood. So yeah, I can understand doing anything and everything to get that fix. I always got my blood on the regular from Damsel, but if that was ever cut off..."

"Yeah, I figured. I just... I don't know what to do with the whole situation. I was just so hungry, and she was so easy to feed on. I suppose I really hope that she doesn't bother me again, and that I can just not deal with that problem."

"That makes sense. I'm not judging you, just trying to understand the situation. Nothing irks me more than not understanding what's going on. Speaking of which, where are we going? What are we doing?"

I stopped. I'd been fleeing from the crime scene without a sense of direction or a goal. I looked around. That's when I saw it. Access point 5-A. Something clicked in my mind. "Um, we're going to see Pisha. She's the Kindred who taught me about summoning spirits and stuff, which is how you're running around with me. She's, um... different. You'll see. C'mon." With that, I bent over and began picking the lock on the door. Once it was open, it was a simple matter of going through the one entrance not covered in rubble, and going through the nearby hole in the wall to get to Pisha's haven.

I walked through darkness, and the only lights were flickering candles on the wall and a sickly green glow that emanated from Pisha. She was in the midst of some ritual, chanting in some language i don't understand, while spirits rotated around her in concentric circles and various geometric patterns, creating a complex arrangement that had me transfixed in fascination. It only lasted a moment, though, before the spirits suddenly burst apart and turned into an angry swarm, buzzing with conversation that I couldn't discern. As soon as the spirits were aware of me, so was Pisha, and she looked up, staring directly into me, piercing my soul.

"Lucius. You return." Her attention shifted next to me, to Paul. "I see you have found a Wraith companion. Would you care to introduce them?"

"Um, yeah, sure." _Of course Pisha can see Paul. I should have thought of that. _"This is Paul, the ghost of one of the Anarch's ghouls. I met him as part of my investigation into the plague outbreak in LA. He's helping me complete my investigations into the disease that killed him."

She stared at his form, which was being circled by other aural wisps. I heard him whisper in fear. "Uh, Lucius, what's going on here? There's all these other spirits and I can't seem to move and I'm - Oh god my mind." And then he went silent.

Pisha stared in concentration, before tilting her head and smiling ever so slightly. "Interesting," was all she said before turning back to me. "You took the summoning instructions from Joseph. How did you obtain them from him?"

And suddenly I was on the spot. I knew she wouldn't be okay with how I'd got the knowledge, and I knew she would know if I was lying, so... "He gave it to me."

She smirked at that. "Willingly?"

"Um... no. See, he was bitter over the fact that I just seemed to using him, and he wouldn't let me make a copy, and he still has the original and all, I just Dominated him long enough to make a copy, and-"

"Give me the paper." I complied mindlessly, my will subverted to hers. She took the paper and threw it directly into a nearby ceremonial candle. I watched in dismay as the one secret I had, the one ability that maybe, just maybe, Strauss and LaCroix didn't know I possessed, was covered in dancing flames that leapt across the entire surface in what seemed like an instant. The ashes fell to the ground, still smoldering, like the weight of regret smothering still-warm hope.

I looked up at her with fear and bitter resentment. She simply smirked at my dismay. "The instructions were not yours to take. I am not upset so much that you stole from a mere mortal - what upsets me is that you took secrets which I held without my permission. Remember this lesson well, young one - knowledge is power, and none know this better than the elders. To take secrets from them without their permission, even from lowly messengers and servants below your station, is to invite these elders' wrath. I am willing to be forgiving - because you are so young, so ignorant of the social codes of conduct, and so eager for knowledge. Do not expect forgiveness a second time."

I nodded, absorbing her lesson about the dynamics of power and secrets. _Makes sense, but still... I wonder if I could still pull the ritual off?_ "Would you be upset if I were still able to perform the ritual by memory?"

Pisha smiled. "Not at all. That which you learned is the most basic of Necromantic rituals. And, always remember - anything that you only know through a recorded instruction can be taken away, but that which is firmly in your mind shall always be yours. Now, I wish to see how well you can recall the ritual. Perform it on the mirror." She gestured to an ornate, full-length mirror that was to her left. I could tell it had been used for many such rituals before by the blood coating the ground before it.

I knelt down nervously, realizing that I had been suddenly subjected to a test. Honestly, I had grown used to using notes for most of my life - my job involved looking up references, so it was just a matter of information indexing. Serena had me take extensive notes on those things she wished me to learn, though she also had a way of forcing me to remember that had... whipped my mind into excellent shape. I always had to be prepared for unexpected tests. The punishments for failure were as brutal as the rewards for success were ecstatic. I took a deep breath, calming myself, entering the meditative state as she had taught me, filling myself with the space of the void, and within the silence perfect focus could be achieved. I focused within myself, and traveled to when I had done the ritual last - but it had not been ingrained in me as Serena's lessons had..."

...

I was sitting in an elegant yet simple chair, styled in late Victorian type, according to the fashion tastes of my lover... my lover, as I thought of her then, not realizing...

"Pay attention!" I snapped my focus back to the lesson, and to the memory. "The ritual circle is one of the primary means of focusing the energy built into the power of the blood. If you'll look here..." She pointed down at the book on the table between our chairs, a table which was adjacent to a chalk outline on washable linoleum floor, though the grout was stained red in several places. "...the primary focus of the circle is the regular geometric shape encoded in it, and how those points connect. There are the traditional star formations and regular geometric shapes - the geometric shapes are best for protection and sealing. Six is the mythical number of completeness, and thus a good circle of protection would be a hexagon, with repeating wards of deferral. We use the Celtic rune for warding here, as they excelled at protective and healing magics, and their runes reflect this power. Now, on the next page..."

I finished my notes on my lesson thus far and looked down at the book, nodding eagerly to show my attention and adoration to her. "... we see more complicated structures. The seven sided star is a structure of extreme power and should not be dabbled with lightly. It imbues objects - and people - with whatever meaning you derive from the placement of the symbols. How does one arrange the symbols? How does one pick symbols? Suppose one wished to draw a ward of energy amplification and spiritual binding to one's master... the process is something of a soul mate, if you'll forgive the pun."

She pulled a piece of paper out of the next page, and I could see that Serena had neatly drawn the special power summoning circle she had spoken of before - a bond between us, that would cement us. I was more than ready to accept - the truth and power I was unlocking drove me on nearly as much as my blind adoration for the most amazing woman I had ever met. "Take off your shirt." I complied with a smile, not realizing what was coming next. "Hold still." My mistress slid in behind me, caressed my neck longingly, and then gently pulled forth her silver ceremonial knife and carved a circle on my chest. I arched my head back and screamed, but only for a moment - I bit my tongue and endured in silence. I stared in the mirror in horror and fascination as she proceeded to carve a seven-sided star onto my chest.

Serena smiled. "Good boy. Can't have the neighbors complaining, so if you can't bite your tongue, you must be gagged. Now, draw in chalk on the circle before you what is on your chest." I nodded and obeyed, quickly replicating the geometric shape. Serena smiled again and kissed me gently on the neck, sending shivers up my spine, in anticipation of pleasure to come - should I please her in this test. "Now, at the top of the star, pointing to your head, your brain, the seat of your soul, we must imbue this with servitude to the master. So, The Sumerian Cuneiform for mistress is used - it was Mesopotamia that invented the idea of "master" and "slave." Do you remember the symbols? Draw one on each side of the circle at the top point." I tried to remember, desperate for her caress, for her smile, for her approval. I focused my mind on the silence, and went back...

I drew the symbols, two sides of the most ancient society - slave within, master without. Serena smiled and gently nibbled on my neck, sending me into a wave of absolute pleasure... I wasn't sure how she was able to make me feel so good with such a small act, but I certainly wasn't complaining... at least not until her knife copied the symbols into my flesh, though her lips on my neck were making it hard for me to even concentrate on the pain...

"Now," Serena said as she pulled her lips off of me, "the next symbol will be above the symbol for master. It will be the Sumerian version of my name. You couldn't possibly know this symbol, so I'll carve it into you first, and I expect you to immediately draw it in its proper place. Understood?" I nodded, and a moment later her name was etched into my flesh in Cuneiform. I grit my teeth and repeated the symbol in excruciating detail, desperate to please.

"Good, good," she purred at me. "Now, from here on out, things get a bit more complicated. The adjacent points represent complementary concepts, which shall be awareness and capacity. The lower points are that which you seek to overcome, and also the base of the new power. This is tricky, as the symbols must be both negated and enforced. Control and ignorance seem appropriate, as your desire to escape your control and ignorance will drive you forward, and yet it is through your ignorance that I shall control you, for you shall never have more knowledge than me. Finally, there are the lateral points, which represent permanent concepts, that which you posses and which must be preserved. Curiosity and talent, these I shall etch in. We'll get into the sybology of which mirror version must be used and so on, but for now, simply follow the pattern I carve into you. Now, pay close attention, and keep a leash on that tongue as I carve you. There's a good boy..."

...

I was creating the seven-sided star, in the basic arrangement of the supernatural portal system. I knew that the symbol facing the mirror was death with transcendence above it, and at the base pair were life and transience, but the other four symbols were eluding me. I was starting to feel like I was in the middle of finals, desperate for an answer I knew I needed to produce, and just couldn't find inside my mind. It was driving me insane, and as I stared in desperation, I was taken back to my senior year of college, when I'd just partied too hard, when my memory just couldn't cut it, when I knew I was in over my head. I was taken back to that time, and to the solution I'd turned to in desperation. Cheating.

"I think that was a weird eye symbol," Paul piped in, as my hand hovered over the upper right symbol. "It was kind of warped, like..." and in my mind, I saw the symbol, saw the entire summoning circle in complete, and I focused on that particular symbol. I drew it with confidence, having had my mind refreshed. I quickly completed the test with the help of my dead companion.

I smiled at my chalk creation, stopping to add a few details here and there, making sure the creation was as complete as possible. Pisha looked over my shoulder with seemingly detached interest. "You seemed to be struggling for awhile. What loosened the gates of memory for you?"

I turned back to her, a guilty look plastered on my face. "Um, I-"

"I know that Paul helped you," she interrupted. "It's quite alright. He could only help you voluntarily here - and I respect the effort you have taken to build a relationship with this restless spirit. Indeed, it seems appropriate that you should prove capable of speaking to the dead with the aid of the friendly dead, no? In any case, if you are confident in that which you have constructed, recreate it in blood upon the mirror, and I shall judge the quality of your work by the strength of your summoning."

I nodded, and looked over my work one more time, carefully. This was my last chance to amend any mistakes. After this, it was written in blood. I asked Paul directly, "Are you sure about that symbol on the upper right? I think the symbol had a line through it, right around the curve there, but I'm not quite sure..."

"Um... hold on." Paul brought up the image once more in response to my curiosity. This was most interesting. He seemed to act as a kind of reference, thriving and feeding on curiosity, replying with memories. _Useful, that._ "Yeah, there seems to be a diagonal line crossing there. Fix that, and you're good."

I crossed the line and put the chalk down. _Time to give the symbols power. Time to etch them in blood._ My knife became my new writing implement, the mirror my new writing surface. It was a simple matter of reverse transcription. I licked my wounds closed and pulled out Paul's finger. I had been holding on to it the whole time, keeping Paul's voice clear in my head. Now I unwrapped it. When I touched it, skin to skin, I swear I could see the shadowy outline of Paul, standing there next to the circle. I placed the finger in the center of the chalk circle and focused my energy, connecting the points through the flesh, connecting to the spirit. I nodded, and Paul understood, stepping into the center. I pulled my hand away and concentrated on entering the dead meditative state, connecting with the other side. I looked through the mirror and saw Paul, clearer and clearer now, and I started to see the other spirits, standing around us in a circle. Some looked human. Others... humanlike, but strange and warped, with tendrils waving out from the sides of their eyes, or animal-like features, strange reptilian stares of all-black eyes. Some floated above us, strange wisps in the air with faces but without form, like staring jellyfish or will-o-the-wisps with eyes, forming a domed canopy above the circle. This was a varied cornucopia of the restless dead, watching me contact their world, evaluating me. I stared into the mirror and refocused on Paul - he appeared clear as day in the mirror, visible even without sight beyond sight.

"Excellent work." Pisha moved directly behind me. "Move away from the summoning circle - once you've opened the gateway, there's no need to keep still or stare into the mirror. Simply continue focusing your energy on keeping the portal open. Try to move around without disrupting the connection." I stood slowly, eyes still on the mirror. I turned my attention away. I saw the aural outlines of the spirits, sparkling all around me. I stared at the scintillating display, realizing that I had created an area where the barrier between worlds was thinner. _I wonder if i can talk to them..._ "Don't break your concentration!" I refocused right as I saw the aural display shimmer and flicker, and the vision returned. "Be vigilant. I wish to speak with your new companion spirit. Attempt to communicate with my coterie of dead, if you wish. You may learn something that interests you."

With that, she sat down at my seat in the circle. She closed her eyes, and a moment later I felt the power of the portal intensify. Suddenly, the ghosts around me were visible, not just their auras - auras which shone brightly, lighting up the room with multicolored, pale light. Pisha began speaking to Paul. "So, tell me, how did you come to meet Lucius here?"

"Well, it started when he came into my room, after I had died of the disease I was investigating." I turned my attention elsewhere, not interested in hearing a retelling of what I'd already experienced. I looked, and decided to speak to the most interesting-looking spirit in the ensemble. Towering seven feet tall, he looked at nothing and everything with massive, glowing, ethereal orbs that sat in elongated sockets. He reminded me of a roswellian alien - only, while that creature was bald, this one had long hair that flowed upward, drifting in some ethereal wind. Everything seemed to flow up - the long elven ears, the elongated neck, the cloth-like wisps of essence that blew up on the ethereal wind, with the sputtering aural flames dancing atop them in a shining light that told me this being possessed extraordinary power.

"Um, excuse me-" I began.

"Yes, young one?" the being spoke without moving its mouth.

"I, uh, my name is Lucius." I figured I may as well introduce myself.

"I am aware," was his only reply.

"Oh. Okay, so... what's your name?"

"I am known by many names, and the deep ones shall not be known to you. You may refer to me as the Elder One."

_I knew this guy would be a repository of knowledge. Start the conversation off light._ "Oh, interesting. How did you get that name?"

"Of all the spirits present in this group, I have remained in this limbo the longest. Though I am certainly not the eldest of all Wraiths, those spirits that cannot pass on - that honor goes to Charon, ferryman of the Styx, High Lord of the Kingdom of the Western Underworld - I am eldest among this group of free spirits. I have come to peace with the fact I shall not pass on. I accept this role, as guide to the restless dead."

I nodded, absorbing all this. _So Charon is real?_ But I wanted information about immediate questions. "So why do some spirits look human, while others, like yourself, are distinctly... different? Why do some float? Basically, I'm trying to get information on what types of spirits there are, and what they're like. I mean, if that's okay with you..." I wasn't sure of the proper protocols here, so I figured I may as well be direct.

I couldn't tell how the Elder One reacted to my question - his face remained unchanged. His aura shifted a little, but nearly every emotion seemed to be bouncing around his aura at once - I wasn't really sure what to make of it. "Rather appropriate, that you should be attached to a spirit of curiosity. He, and the other spirits that still appear human, are newly dead. Well, not precisely - they are rather those spirits still attached strongly to their lives, to their human forms. More precisely, they could be considered to be the more immature spirits - those that cannot accept their place in this existence, and cling to that which has passed. These spirits are known as Lemures – they are the newly awakened. It is normal for the newly dead to still think of themselves in essentially human terms - whether Specter or Kindred. As these beings come into greater self-awareness and maturity, however, they come to understand their true nature and powers, and gain a more honest self-image - which in the case of Specters, results in a literal change of form. Many of these spirits are without form, floating, because they are nearly at peace, and are ready to transcend to whatever fates await them. Those of us trapped in this realm are the restless dead, the ones not at peace. Almost inevitably, part of the process of growing and maturing as a spirit involves working towards this transcendence, though this is not always the case. I myself, for instance, came to realize some time ago that a key flaw in my character will prevent me from transcending. I have accepted this, and come to peace with it. That is why I am the Elder One - not because of greater power, or wisdom, but rather because unlike most spirits that follow Pisha, spirits which stay only a short time and then pass on, I shall stay with her permanently. This is also why I have developed into such an alien form. If you look over by the altar, you can see another alternative fate to ascension."

I looked, and saw something I'd barely noticed earlier - a mass of darkness, palpable in it's existence - it reminded me uncomfortably of the substantive shadows commanded by the Lasombra at the docks. Peering in carefully, I realized that there was a pair of darker-than-black orbs staring out at me - I started in surprise. "That is the local vortex, and a spirit that has fallen into despair and doom. It listens, more and more, to the voice of its shadow. It still clings to the edges of this world, yet approaches that which lies under this one - the Tempest. A great sea of chaos that lies directly above the ultimate void at the heart of the spiritual world, a great mass of entropy and undoing - Oblivion. A hole to the vortex is required to create a nexus of spiritual power in this area. This nexus of power by definition must contain an ascension and descension point. Our power comes from opening up the gates of possibility and harvesting the energy, which offers spirits a chance to journey on, regardless of destination. While we attempt to guide every spirit here towards ascension, each must make this journey alone. Some fail, and in failing, strengthen our little void - and therefore, our nexus. Thus, even the failures – the specters – have their place." I felt waves of regret and bitterness welling forth from the darkness, and I couldn't help but pity the creature a little. "And so, I shall end our conversation with this piece of advice - do not ever attempt to compel service from the dead, or prevent their transcendence in any way. There are enough slave masters among the restless dead as it is. And while you may regret the passing of a useful or enjoyable spirit, ultimately you will cause them only pain and misery by holding them back when they are ready to pass on. If you come to be known as an honest being that aids spirits along their path, they will flock to you willingly. And, in time, you shall encounter a spirit like me, one which cannot pass on, and they shall choose to be the most loyal servants you will ever find. Farewell. I sense my Mistress wishes to speak with you. Good evening."

I turned, and sure enough, Pisha was turning away from the mirror to look at me. "Why did you not give Hannah your blood? She is on the verge of death. You promised Paul you would save her." I almost told her the real truth - that I didn't want another ghoul, that I didn't need to deal with that responsibility - but I stopped myself. I knew there was another reason... "Hannah was infected. The disease made her try and seek out new partners - to infect more people. If I gave her my blood, she'd still be infected, still have the compulsion. She'd cause more people to die, and ultimately get sick and die once she burned through my blood. I'd be just be prolonging the inevitable. I need to find a way to cure her."

"And how do you plan to achieve this cure? Even if you are trained in the ways of Thaumaturgy, surely you cannot have a sharp enough understanding to cleanse her blood."

I nodded, acknowledging my weakness. "I took a sample of her blood. I plan on bringing it immediately to the local Chantry and asking Strauss, the Regent, what can be done. It was Strauss that asked me to look into the plague in the first place, anyway. He'll know what to do."

Pisha nodded, then turned back to Paul. "It seems your companion is true to his word. You have chosen well." She turned back to me. "Go immediately to the Chantry upon leaving my Haven - do not delay or stop anywhere else. The safety of the Kindred community and maintenance of the Masquerade is paramount."

I nodded. "I completely agree. The only reason I ended up here is because-"

"Paul explained the situation. However, before I go, I have a question to ask you. Since you have begun dabbling in the necromantic arts, and because you are incorrigibly curious, I assume you are interested in learning more about them. What are you willing to do to obtain such secrets?"

I thought about that for a minute. _A source of knowledge separate from the Chantry - a way to gain some independence. But in exchange for what? Am I trading one form of servitude for another?_ "What did you have in mind?"

"When last we spoke, I mentioned that I seek relics of the occult traced here." I nodded, remembering. "I would trade similar objects for them, along with knowledge of the necromantic arts. I have traced two objects of great import to my studies and journey to this area. One, I believe to be in one of the local museums – I have not searched them all. The other I believe to be in the possession of the Giovanni – indeed, it is this relic which has drawn me to this city, and I seek it before all others. However, there is no possibility of me gaining entrance to their mansion in this city, though I know where it is located."

I couldn't help but be curious. "What do they have that's so important?"

Pisha stared off, becoming almost reverential, part wistful. "The object is a great tome of knowledge and power. It is used to communicate with certain entities otherworldly, and allows for thinning of the borders between this world, the world of the dead... and other worlds and layers of existence. It allows for free speaking across planes, and free travel to certain realms otherwise inaccessible. It is a tome known as the 'Volche de Morte.' Should you find yourself within the walls of the Giovanni, take it – for they will make sure you never have another. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to read or decipher the contents of this tome – many of the incantations and pages have power and consciousness within them, and may take the mind of the unwary. I shall provide as much knowledge and training in the arts of the supernatural as you are capable of learning – trust me when I say that use of this object is well beyond your level of skill."

I nodded. "If I ever get a chance to be around these Giovanni, I will. Who are they, anyway?"

She looked at me with surprise. "You have not heard of this clan? They are one of the independent clans, unconnected to either Camarilla or Sabbat. They embrace solely from a mortal crime family, also known as the Giovanni, and the clan runs the business of the family – business which includes every vice, every dark and lucrative trade, and every tool of death. For they seek not only to increase their wealth in money, but also in souls. They are the necromancers of the Kindred, and their clan's goal is most foul. They seek to perform a great spell, to sever the boundary between life and death, and to rule over all creation. To do this, they seek to enslave and harvest souls, and the souls of their dead mortal cousins aid them in this – thus their reach extends even into the underworld, unknown to the other clans. These monsters are a greater threat than any know – for they go out of their way to avoid harming any major faction, and trade and aid them as much as they can. Ultimately, they aid whoever will cause the most death while creating the least disruption for their clan. Beware these wretches. And do not attempt to go near their mansion unless you have an invitation of some kind."

I nodded, absorbing this information. _Fascinating. So much still to learn. And here I thought I had a solid picture of things because I knew about the Camarilla, the Anarchs, and the Sabbat. Still... not really trying to go and piss them off at the moment._ "What of the other object you seek?"

"A fetish is described in a nineteenth-century chronicle of a British platoon's encounter with a local tribe. Soldiers would go missing in the night and be replaced by these fetishes. It may be valuable to my studies – and a powerful conduit of death energy. Search through local museums, if you get the chance. I may have more information for you on which museum to search, later."

I nodded. "I'll do what I can to obtain these artifacts for you, Pisha, I promise."

Pisha nodded. "What do you intend of your wraith companion? What do you understand of his nature?"

"Um... I hadn't really thought of that. I mean, he's curious, he feeds off curiosity. And he wants to understand things, so... I guess he'll be a scout and investigator. Like, he can let me know if I'm in danger or something, if I'm missing a clue, or..." I drifted off, my own lack of planning or understanding of what I was getting into causing me to lose confidence.

"Indeed, this suits his demeanor. Just remember, the only thing tying him to this world is that which he has not yet resolved. These are called his Passions, and it is these that sustain and drive him. He is tied here by the plague, and by the quest to discover its source and end it. The only other things tying him to this world are Fetters – the finger you have, tying him to you – and Hannah. Take away fetters or resolve passions, and the unresolved desires keeping him from moving on will be resolved, setting him free. Wraiths are simply spirits whose journey has been interrupted. Once this matter with the plague is finished, he may leave you and transcend. And matters within the underworld may pull him away. Expect this, and do not despair or anger at it."

I smiled, glad at the guidance. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the Underworld? Anything that we might need to know?"

Pisha looked at me with patronizing amusement, like a parent looking at a child that just asked if there's anything dangerous out in the world. "There is much you need to know, and I have little time to tell you. Suffice to say, that from the emotional energy you have given unto your companion, he may manifest certain abilities." She turned Paul, standing in the mirror. "You seem to be adept in the skill he lost art of Mnemosynis, control of memory, which was once considered a mark of great honor, of judges, but has since fallen into disfavor. This allows recall and manipulation of memory. Be careful with it, for it is considered taboo. I also sense you have some potential with Argos, travel in the Shadowlands, and in time may learn to travel the Tempest. For now, you seem to have the ability to hide yourself from dangerous eyes. Develop this skill well – it is respected greatly, and in time you may fly. Focus your emotional energy upon these skills, and you will aid Lucius in his quest to resolve your Passion. However, Paul, at all times you must keep in mind that there is a society of souls, a wraith kingdom of the dead – the Empire of Stygia. They are as conservative and rigid as the Camarilla, and enforce their own version of the Masquerade – the Dictum Mortuum, which forbids Wraiths to allow the living to know of the existence of the other side. Though contact with the undead is technically not a violation of the code, your activity will attract attention. Indeed, your own existence, bound as you are to one of the undead, is quite unusual. Before you were summoned by Lucius, the underworld appeared as a jumbled dream – you were within your Caul, much as a newly born infant still covered in afterbirth. While a few souls may free themselves from their Caul, most must be freed by another, and become thralls and slaves. Indeed, the Shadowlands are full of chains, slavery, and misery. You are now bound to Lucius as thrall, and yet, while most would bemoan being trapped in service to an undead abomination, you have no doubt escaped a far worse fate. Keep this in mind at all times, and be grateful for it. Do not expect to exist for too long unbothered by the empire – they will find you, and wish to know if you are violating their code. Be on watch, always – and not simply against external enemies. Just as within every Kindred is the voice of the Beast, threatening to destroy the will and pull one into a state of oblivion and decay, so too do Wraiths have their own Shadow. It is within you, and yet separate from you. It will whisper to you, from within your own mind, and if you let it take you over, it shall possess you as surely as any spirit can possess an unprepared mortal. Be on guard, always." She turned back to me. "Do you have any further questions, before you depart?"

"Only one. It's sort of a personal question, if you don't mind. What is it that led you to take such an interest in Necromancy?"

A look of wistfulness crept onto Pisha's face. "Truly, this path was presented to me upon my embrace – it was the way of my clan, the way of all those cursed with our bloodline's strange version of undeath. Yet my fascination with death preceded my embrace. And why not? Death is the ultimate dilemma, and integral to the beliefs and behavior of every culture. Life is bore on the corpses of the dead. Without death, there would be no motivation to accomplish anything. The only emotion would be existing. Life would be persistent and agonizing." She refocused on me, staring at me in curiosity. "What is your opinion of the ending of life, of the passing on to another plane?"

"Uh..." I hadn't thought about this kind of thing since... _since my discussion with Serena on the subject._ "I had come to accept it before my embrace. I understood that death is part of the inevitable cycle that comes with life, that the core life essence could be utilized for great power, but that ultimately tapping into this essence consumes it. I'll admit, I wanted to escape from that cycle, and I suppose I did, and I guess I can accept the nature of what one becomes when breaking the natural cycle of life and death. I'm only now coming to understand the true nature of death, or at least of the restless dead, though I did have some instruction in these things before my embrace, and some experience with ghosts afterwords."

"Hm... I see." Pisha was rubbing her chin contemplatively. "Have you also come to the conclusion that life and death are co-parasitic?"

"Huh," I replied. "I never really thought about it like that."

"This perspective is uncommon. The multitude see death as tragic. If this were true, so then would be birth. Every thing must consume life to avoid dying. You and I are no exception."

I nodded, absorbing this strange lesson. "Then what is the place of Kindred in the coparasitic relationship between life and death?"

"Ah... now you touch on a difficult subject. We escape the cycle, and yet are cursed with a terrible parasitic existence. But from this existence, we gain power – power we use to protect our herds of humans. This has been responsible for much of human civilization – vampire lords leading dependent flocks against the powers of the wild. People wanted stability, wanted ease, wanted escape from death – Kindred offered all these things as temptations to bring people under their control. Some argue that we are superior, natural predators. Others, that we are here as a curse on humanity. Others, simply that we are humans that are doing what all living creatures seek to do, to escape death – that we are as unnatural as anything human beings do. My clan has long believed that Kindred should be the guardians of humanity – that individuals can be harmed and killed for personal needs or to serve the greater good, but that overall humanity should prosper and thrive because of our existence as eternal watchers and superhuman guides. Those who see themselves as gods and lords disagreed, however, and had to be kept in a state of war and chaos. That, of course, was before Enoch was destroyed, before..." She broke off, pulled from wistful introspection. "...but I digress. I leave it to you to decide that philosophical question."

I smiled, glad at the opportunity to absorb so much knowledge, much of which could directly help me survive.. "Thank you again for everything. The necromantic abilities have already helped me immensely, and-"

I was cut off by Pisha's derisive snort. "You have barely scratched the surface of knowledge, and that which you do know you stole. I hope that you will have earned the right to such truth when next you return. Speaking of which..." She stared directly into my eyes. "Have you consumed any souls, drunk any mortal dry since last we spoke?"

I recalled my promise to her, the one I'd stayed true to. "No. As I promised, I've stopped."

She looked me over carefully, reading my Aura. "Good. You may yet earn my respect and support. For now, I ask only that you treat this spirit with respect. Feed him with curiosity, and support him on his path of transcendence. Now, there is only one final thing I need from you. Hold out your hand."

I obeyed. Next thing I knew, Pisha had sliced my pinky finger off with her ceremonial dagger. "Ah!" I screamed as I jumped back. "What the hell was that for?"

Pisha ignored me, instead walking back to her altar with a piece of my dead flesh. She squeezed blood out of the finger into a small chalice, and set the finger down next to it when it had been drained dry. "I have sensed the presence of your sire, existing as a spiritual entity among the Umbral realms. I desire an audience with her, and your flesh and blood are key to making that contact. Your finger will heal, no need to worry."

I looked down and saw the appendage regrowing. I'd endured worse, but still... "What makes you think my Sire is a ghost?"

I was interrupted once again. "My second sight is stronger than you know. That is all you need to know. Now, if you don't have any further questions..."

The invitation to leave couldn't have been more obvious, and after losing a finger, I was all too ready to comply. "Um, right. Well, I'm going to go now. C'mon, Paul, let's get out of here." With that, we were heading back out into the sewers, away from Pisha, that fascinating abomination.


	32. Chapter 31: Spellbound

**So yeah, it's been for freaking ever since I last published anything, or really did much of anything. I could go into a long rant about my life and mess of madness it has become, but I feel its summed up rather nicely by the following actual quote:**

"**Dude, we can't let a little thing like the fact I stabbed you get in the way of our friendship."**

**Here's a fun game. Try to guess if this was said _to_ me... or _by _me.**

**Rednightmare – Thanks for saying you missed me. I missed this place, but IRL things had pulled me far from the internet. I could barely even get on facebook. I feel like Lucius' increasing nonchalant acceptance of the chaotic and bizarre has come to mirror my own... but let's not get too meta here. I'm very glad you like Paul, as I intend to include him more and more – I've recently fallen in love with Wraith the Oblivion, and he's the perfect vehicle to shoehorn that game in. It's not like I'm breaking Bloodlines cannon – they already threw a ghost in, I'm just building on a theme! And Pisha is going to be yet another connection to the world of the completely dead, though she also is going to get her own character arc. **

**As for the rest of you... I wish I could respond to you all, but as absurd as it sounds, I'm in a rush. I know, I know, it's been like 5-6 months, and yet somehow I find myself rushing. See, I'm late for this midnight full moon tribe festival thing in the woods, and so I really must rush. (I'm not a werewolf, I swear, though I know plenty of people that act like it..)**

**Happy blue moon! Go howl at it for me! It's more fun than you'd think. And enjoy the double-chapter bonus. See, good things come to those who wait.**

**...**

I crawled through the catacombs of the sewers, desperately trying to find any sign of life, trying to flee from the warped, creeping horror of the world of the dead. I felt like a corpse trapped in a mausoleum, and I was desperate to just get out of here, to rejoin the world of the living. I crawled up the first ladder I saw, like a desperate animal bolting out of a cage.

The alley I emerged in wasn't much better, almost darker than the sewers, filled with garbage and looking like the valley of death – there was one thing that made it a far, far better place to be in: the presence of living humans. Sure, they looked like they were already dead, but I could sense the life flowing through them. I crept forward carefully, a dark corpse crawling forth from the dead ground, creeping carefully through the shadows to feed on the living. I jumped on the poor creature, and the life that flowed into me lifted me up from my morbid melancholy, reminding me of the world of the living through raw physical pleasure and vicarious memories. But the pleasure ended far too soon, and the memories were patchy and dark. I still felt dead inside.

I dropped the nearly-drained bum on the ground, just another homeless person passed out in an alleyway. I stared forward, out of the dark alley, into the well-lit street. I saw a beautiful woman, silhouetted against the streetlights, leaning against the wall, her elegant yet short dress ending at her thighs, right above her long leather, high-heeled boots. I stood up, ending my bestial crouch, returning to a human pose. I dusted myself off, straightened my tie, composed myself. I walked forward calmly, keeping myself from salivating as the smell of life from her veins wafted to my nose. The woman turned her head, startled by the sound of my footsteps. Her short black hair twirled with the turn of her neck, and piercing green eyes stared out at me. With a smile, I made her mind mine. "Hold still."

Transfixed, she stood unmoving. I walked up to the beautiful statue, admiring her for a moment before plunging my fangs into her immaculate neck. A rush of life flowed into me, even as the details of her life filled me. I saw that she was a manager by day, a relishing in the feeling of dominance she got as she whipped her subordinates into shape for the approval of her superiors, desperate for recognition and advancement. A creature of the corporate world, it was inevitable that she should develop sadistic and masochistic urges, though currently she saw herself as submissive in her day-to-day existence due to overpowering superiors and longed for the power and thrill of domination. She had found an outlet for this in The Confession, and had been having the most exquisite night, before a sudden outbreak of violence at the front gate had ended things. She wasn't used to such chaos, to such unstructured existence, and had fled. She had called a cab and was waiting for it, when...

I pulled my fangs out and licked her wounds clean. I was about to walk off when the cab pulled up. "Um, I'm here to pick up Miss Josephine? She said to pick her up on this corner..."

I looked down at the passed-out woman in my hands, the one I knew needed this ride. I looked back up at the cabbie and nodded. "That's right. She's had too much to drink and could use a ride home. She's got plenty of money – just wake her when you get there. She told you the address, right?" He nodded. "Okay. Take care of her." I opened the door and gently placed my meal inside, remorse filtering down into my mind through the haze of bestial hunger, a regret for the pain I had caused her. I buckled her up and made sure she'd be alright. She was starting to come to. I smiled, telling her, "It's going to be okay. You're going home." With that last farewell, I closed the door and the cab sped off into the night.

I walked through the bright streets, once again one with the world of the living. I watched each nightcrawler scurry through the asphalt grid, each one a small story, a possible life I could consume and live. _So strange, I never really appreciated this cornucopia of life. I've been so caught up in all the politics, the raw struggle for survival, that I never really had a chance to contemplate the nature of life and death. Rather strange. After all, learning that death is escapable, that it's not as final and absolute as I once imagined, is certainly a major revelation. Again, I just never had the peace and quiet to-_

"So, where are you going now?" Paul interrupted my introspection with his whispers, and I silently cursed to myself.

"Um, not really sure. Just kind of drifting. I mean..." I noticed a couple of people on the street giving me sidelong looks, and realized that I probably shouldn't be talking to invisible spirits in public. I put my head down and started walking briskly away.

I was approaching a familiar part of town. Near LaCroix tower, but not quite... _Oh yes. I suppose I should pay Strauss a visit. Where was the Chantry again? Oh, right. Can't find it without Auspex._ A minute later, I was once again staring at the old, out of place edifice. "So what's this place?" Paul asked.

I sighed. I was getting annoyed with this. I looked around. No one was here to see me converse with the dead. "It's the Chantry. The home for my clan of Vampires. Um, could you not ask me questions while I'm inside? I'd appreciate it." With that, I started walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Paul cried out.

I stopped, annoyed. "What?"

"I can't... I can't go near that building. There's something holding me back, like a force field or something."

I smiled a little at that. "Makes sense. My clan is a clan of mages. I guess they have a barrier against spirits to keep the Giovanni from spying on them or something. So... I guess stay out here while I go in."

I continued towards what I now knew to be a sanctuary against spectral haranguing. "But..." Paul's voice was whiny and fading, and I was tempted to just keep walking, to leave him behind without a word.

But... _he's one of my only reliable allies. Don't burn bridges._ "What is it? I really need to go in here."

"I... What should I do out here? Ever since you woke me up, I've just been following you. What now? This place, it's so strange... there's all these spirits with marks on them, drifting among the living. I don't know what they want, and..."

I sighed. "How should I know? I mean... look, no one likes to be left alone, but it happens sometimes. It's happened a lot to me. Just talk to other ghosts or something, I don't know. Just wait for me out here, I won't be too long. Don't hold your breath or anything though, I'm not hurrying back. Not that it would kill you if I did."

"That's not funny, man."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be so sensitive. I'm dead too, you know." With that, I opened the door and stepped away from my nagging companion.

The silence of the entrance lobby was serene after the outside commotion and spectral nagging. The only sound was a slight electric hum, a subtle mythic ringing to the ears. The civil gentility of the reception area put my mind at ease, my Beast at peace. I stepped up to the desk.

The receptionist looked up. "Ah, Lucius Marshall How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Regent Strauss. I have information for him about the plague. I offered to try and see what I could do about the problem, and I've made some progress tracking down its source. I'm sure he'd be interested in my findings."

"Yes, I'm sure. Unfortunately, Regent Strauss is busy at the moment, but I'm sure he'll be free in just a few minutes. He's in the middle of some sort of research project – I'm not privy to the details. I'll be sure to send him a note so that he can meet with you as soon as he's ready. In the meantime, feel free to make yourself at home, maybe prepare your report for the Regent." The receptionist gestured to the nearby chairs before turning to an old typewriter, briefly composing a note, and slipping the paper into some sort of pneumatic tubing system. _Prepare a report? Damn. Didn't think of that._ I sat and opened my briefcase, looking through the papers I'd taken from the hospital.

I realized that everything was a jumbled mess, with papers tumbled around haphazardly. Hadn't even thought about what all this running around had done to my documents. I quickly started stacking and sorting the pile, speed-reading through the contents as I did. I pulled the report summary to the top of the papers, realizing that it contained everything Strauss really needed to know. I went over what I would say, putting together a rough sketch in my mind. I was about to go over everything in more detail, when-

"Excuse me, Mr. Marshall, but Regent Strauss will see you now. Just be sure to sign in." He opened the gate on his desk and gestured to the sign-in sheet. _Wish I had more time._ I neatly stacked the papers, closed my briefcase, and stood, taking an unneeded breath to calm myself. I quickly signed in and walked past, into the labyrinth of shifting halls beyond.

In just a moment, I was disoriented and in front of the same ornate double-doors. I stopped again, realizing that I hadn't even stopped by a bathroom or looked in a mirror to see if I was presentable. _I've been shot and run through the sewers only an hour ago – I must look like a mess._ I straightened my hair, adjusted my tie, and brushed off my coat. _Nothing more to do, I guess._ I took another unneeded breath to calm down, then opened the doors, striding confidently into the room.

Strauss stood next to one of the couches, staring at the door, waiting expectantly for me to enter, though only his Aura revealed this – his body language and face were implacable as a statue. "Good evening, Neonate. Please, sit." He gestured the other couch, even as he sat down in the adjacent one. As I moved over to my seat, I noticed a ceramic pitcher filled with dark liquid, and two crystal wine goblets next to it. Noticing my attention, Strauss asked, "Would you care for some refreshment?"

I smiled and nodded as I sat down, placing my informative burden on the table next to the vitae. "Yes, please. Thank you very much."

Strauss waved away my thanks and poured the sustenance into the two goblets. I politely waited until he was finished before taking my glass, glad that I'd sated my hunger before coming here. _Not that I couldn't use another drink._ As Strauss picked up his goblet, I raised mine, and we sipped the sweet vitae together. The sensation was especially pleasant because it was so civilized, so genteel. After the bestial prowling in the sewers and alleys, this seemed downright... human.

I set the cup down half full, refreshed, licking a small drop off my lips. Strauss addressed me once done with his own meal. "I am most interested to hear your report. Your activities have attracted a certain amount of interest among the Kindred population, especially at these sensitive times. I am most eager to hear from you directly about what happened in the Hospital. But please, begin at your leisure, and feel no need to skip any portion of your narrative – I am most interested to know how the last two nights have been for you, young one. As am I in your opinions of the Anarchs."

I settled myself, entering the bubble, remembering everything that had happened to me since I had last seen Struass. I took another sip of vitae, then opened my briefcase, fumbling about with papers, not sure how to approach the subject of the Sabbat. "Well, I'm most grateful to Nines Rodriguez. On my way over to the Last Round, I was unfortunate enough to encounter a Sabbat pack. One of them was a Tzimiche, and, well..."

Struass looked at me with open and genuine concern. "You need say no more. The Tzimiche clan are the stuff of nightmares, and I would not force you to recount your encounter with them. Indeed, you are quite fortunate to look more or less yourself, though I hope I am not rude in pointing out that I had noticed a few subtle differences from your former appearance – nothing serious, I assure you. I take it Mr. Rodriguez rescued you from this predicament?"

I nodded, glad to move on from the subject. "Yes, he found the pack's hideout during a patrol. I realize how lucky I am that he happened on that particular place at that particular moment." I thought of Serena, how I knew she had helped me, and I kept my mouth shut. _I should keep as much a secret as possible from him – he already knows enough about me and my powers, to say nothing of what power my blood gives him over me. _"He took me to their headquarters at The Last Round, which was built like a citadel. Comforting, considering the dangers all around."

Strauss edged his face upwards, hiding his eyes behind his glasses, and hid his face behind his glass as he sipped on vitae. "What did you think of the other Anarchs?"

I stopped and thought for a moment. _He can see my aura. No lying – but I can control what I tell him._ "Well Jack was nice to me. He was the one who helped me after the theater, showed me the basics of vampirism, kept me alive during the Sabbat raid – I owe him my existence. He cautioned me to be wary of everyone – including the other Anarchs. So I would say that I have respect for the Anarch elders."

Strauss emptied his cup, and poured himself another, all while keeping his eyes unseeable due to the angle of his glasses, his face expressionless. "I see. And what of the younger Anarchs?"

"Rude, violent, superstitious, and arrogant. I received more than my share of verbal abuse and accusations at the hands of Nines' Lieutenant."

"Ah, the infamous Damsel. You need say no more. I have had the misfortune of her company before. So what do you think of their ideals, their goals?"

_Tricky... I like them, I agree with them, democracy makes sense, we shouldn't live in tyranny under Princes and elders, but... I can't say that... what can I say? _"They seem good, but idealistic. I don't know if they're practical or organized enough to accomplish anything."

Strauss allowed himself to smile. "You have described them well. They are well meaning enough – sane creatures that believe in their Humanity and upholding the Masquerade, even if they disdain such titles. They simply refuse to accept certain unpleasant truths regarding Kindred nature – that we are predatory and territorial creatures that require rigid order and hierarchy to prevent chaos. Democracy is the product of a herd species, where communal good can be put first – and truly, such systems do not operate as intended among humans. To expect such a system to succeed among solitary predators that crave nothing more than an echo of their old social habits is to ignore our nature."

I thought on his words for a moment. _Could it be true? Could the Beast make this impossible? Can't say for sure. I just know I'm not willing to sign myself away to anyone yet._ _Let's change the subject._ "I spoke to Damsel about the plague, and she asked me to gather records from one of their ghouls who and a Camarilla ghoul, both dead in the explosion."

Strauss stiffened. "Ah, yes, the hospital. I understand they sent you in under cover of a paranormal investigative film crew, yes?"

I nodded. "Yes, though I didn't know that at the time. I just met their ghoul and kind of had to Dominate my way through Homeland Security agents. Since their investigation was up, they were kind of lax, but it was made clear that CDC would be there in the morning."

Strauss shook his head. "A most dangerous and reckless move. And sending you in uninformed of the situation – very foolish. Think carefully before agreeing to a task for them – even if they did not intend to deceive you by hiding the precarious nature of your mission, incompetence is just as hazardous as malicious intent. More vitae?"

I realized that I'd unconsciously drunk my glass empty as I listened to his words – I was rethinking my opinion of the Anarchs more and more. _ They don't seem to know what was going on – and while they aren't trying to control me, am I any better off with them than I am with competent puppeteers? And that's assuming they aren't playing me with Presence... god, I can't handle the layers of paranoia! And why is Strauss trying to make me paranoid?_ "I, um, yes, please." I settled my nerves with more blood.

Strauss stared at me straight in the eyes. "Tell me what happened in the hospital. Tell me exactly, detail by detail, moment by moment."

I recounted everything, feeling glad to finally share such a strange experience – for so long, I'd held that weird world of the dead inside, hiding from the mortals I'd encountered, only able to share with Paul. At first I described finding the files, then descending into the depths of the morgue. Upon my description of Pisha, Strauss' eyes widened in genuine surprise. "An actual Nagaraja? For long, we've speculated that such creatures were legend, and yet legend is simply forgotten knowledge... What did she say to you? Did she explain her reason for being in this city?"

I shook my head. "She was primarily concerned with upholding the Masquerade, as was I. I went to find the host of the television show, only to find him vanished, along with the briefcase."

Strauss nodded solemnly. "A most dangerous situation. I wish to know the truth of how thoroughly the Masquerade was upheld." He stared at me directly in the eyes once again. "Explain how you kept this from going public."

I did, in perfect detail – Joey, the fake accident, Pisha giving us corpses as she sealed up her haven – the only details I left out were the piece of paper with the Necromancy instructions on it. _If he doesn't know I can talk to the dead, that's a source of information outside his control._ A minor omission, unnoticed, not related to his main concern – keeping the existence of Kindred a secret. I finished my story, catharsis complete, and Strauss spoke for the first time since I began it. "So it seems all was kept secret from the mortals. Everything was explained within the context of their neat reality. Excellent work, Neonate. I shall be sure to make it known to the Prince the efforts you went through to protect our kind – and the recklessness of the Anarchs for putting you in such a position. I assume they offered you no aid?"

I snorted in derision. "I got screamed at when I explained the situation, blamed for screwing up, and they basically made it clear it was my problem. I dealt with it, but it was close." I immediately felt like a whiny child, tattling on Damsel, but she had pissed me off and I just kind of blurted it out.

Strauss sighed. "As expected. So tell me, what have you learned from your dangerous excursion into this area of high mortal scrutiny?"

I pulled out the top papers, the report summary, and handed it him, explaining the basics of plague as I did so. He scanned the papers as I went over the deliberate system being used – the ghouls intentionally spreading the plague due to commands implanted in them, the three major vectors, all of it. I finished, proud of my work.

Strauss sat, silent, finishing the summary. At last he broke his silence. "Well. While this is all very informative, it's not particularly revelatory. I was well aware of these trends, though the data is far more detailed than anything compiled thus far. Nonetheless, this only confirms what we already knew, though it may be new to the Anarchs. Unfortunate."

I was crestfallen. This was supposed to be my opportunity to show my worth, to get somewhere with this stoic statue, to pull some secrets out and advance myself. I stopped and thought for a second as I ingested more sustenance. I realized that I hadn't even gone over what I'd done tonight. "Ah, but there's more. One of the Anarch's ghouls had been investigating the plague as well, and lived in the same apartment I'd slept in. I checked in on him, only to find him dead of the plague. I took a sample of his blood." I pulled out the vial from the briefcase, on of those Strauss had sent me with.

Strauss looked it over. "All well and good, but I've analyzed the blood of those killed by this disease. Did you find anything in his home?"

"I did. I found out that he'd got the disease from a prostitute upstairs, by the name of Hannah. He'd been infatuated with her, and hadn't even realized she was infected."

"How did you find this out?" Strauss asked.

"Uh..." I didn't want him knowing I'd spoken to Paul's ghost. Time to lie. "A message on his answering machine. Anyway, I went upstairs and found Hannah – desperately sick, but still alive. She was barely aware, and kept trying to proposition me for sex despite being near death – she clearly was under some kind of compulsion. Seemed like a primary vector – a ghoul with the blood of the Kindred responsible in her veins, commanded to engage in behaviors that spread the disease. I took a blood sample from her, too." I pulled out her vial, and Strauss took it far more eagerly.

He looked at both intently. "I assume you've done a blood analysis on these samples. What did you learn?"

I blinked, confused. "I, um, don't know how to do blood analysis. My sire never taught me."

Strauss started, then stared at me. "What do you mean? This is the most basic Thaumaturgical ability. I have heard reports of you utilizing the ability Purge, which is of moderate difficulty. How can you not know this? What exactly were you taught by your sire?"

I was on the spot, and I wanted to squirm away. _No way out now._ _May as well talk. I'm sure nothing I tell him will be a surprise – it's about blood magic, after all._ I was mistaken. As I described the symbolic nature of my pre-embrace education, the symbols written in blood, the incantation systems, Strauss couldn't hide his interest. "Fascinating... so you were part of an experiment, a part of her researches into the underlying nature of blood magic and power. So the basic connection to the blood was skipped in favor of a more abstract education, one you could learn without having Kindred vitae in your veins – how very interesting. I shall have to look at her notes again in a new light, knowing she had a direct experimental subject with which she had proven her hypothesis. For your very survival is proof enough that you came into the Embrace with some knowledge of blood magic, despite never before being ghouled. Correct?"

I nodded, a bit confused by all this, but getting the basics – that I was unique, that the method I'd learned had been some new experimental method Serena had designed. That I had been kept from being "of the blood" to prove some academic point – though proving that point had cost my sire her life. _Though... I remember LaCroix's smile... and Serena has hinted that there was more going on, as did Strauss. I think even this is only the tip of the iceberg._ I finished my glass. "Well, if you could instruct me on this method, perhaps it would aid my investigation."

Strauss nodded. "Indeed it shall. It is most basic. There remain a few drops of blood in your glass. Take one upon your tongue, but do not swallow it. Simply hold it, taste it, feel it."

At first I simply felt pleasure and satisfaction. After a few seconds, I felt like the life essence began to burn into me, and I felt a long, protracted idea swim forth into my tongue, like the shadows of the visions of life I experienced as I fed. "I can taste... I can taste that this is a woman's blood."

Strauss nodded. "Yes, yes, very good. What else can you tell me about the human whose blood we drink? Focus carefully, feel free to take another drop if you need."

I felt small details dance in my mind and float away, like drifting images in a dream. It faded away. I put another drop on my tongue. I felt an image flash through my mind, a snapshot of her life. "She's educated but poor. Brown hair. Gave blood at the school blood drive."

Strauss smiled. "Very good. You seem to have excellent perception of the Vitae. Now, taste Paul's blood. What do you learn of him?"

I already knew too much of him, and I was hesitant to put his blood on my tongue, since it was diseased and all, but I trusted Strauss. _I suppose as long as I don't swallow it, I'm fine. _I tasted it and felt his life and death sear into my mind. "Investigative reporter, fascinated with uncovering the truth. Was in love with this assignment. Was in love with Hannah. Ended up dead because of the second one."

"And Hannah?"

I took the blood on my tongue. Right away I could taste something different – something powerful and delicious, and also corrupt and disgusting. I could picture her in mind, dying and miserable. "She's a ghoul, no question, and the disease is coming from the Kindred vitae. She was a prostitute in life, and sexual compulsion was forced on her once she was ghouled, as I suspected. May I taste another drop?" Strauss nodded and placed another drop on my tongue, even as he did the same for himself. Sensing through the blood, I could just picture the outline of her master, a woman with powerful eyes and deep red hair, gorgeous and captivating, twisted and sick in her aura. "I can see what her Kindred mistress looks like!"

I blinked and the vision passed. I stopped, mulling over what I had just learned – not only about the plague, but also about my own abilities. Strauss broke the silence. "I, too, have seen her. This is most fortunate. We are now closer to an actual solution to this epidemic than we have been since its outbreak. With these two blood samples, we can roughly triangulate her location. The vector begins at an unknown point, the Plaugebearer, and proceeds directly into Hannah, and from there into Paul. If we trace the trajectory from Paul to Hannah and follow the bloodline, we can trace the path of infection back to its source." Strauss reached into his jacket and pulled out a directional compass and a compass rose. He placed the compass rose point on the center of the directional compass, a hand resting lightly on the top of it. He then took a drop of each of the samples, and placed both on his tongue at once. His eyes closed in concentration. Slowly, he moved the pencil on the architect's aid, extending and retracting it until he finally seemed to find the right length, at which point he placed the pencil tip on the wood. Opening his eyes, Strauss placed two more drops carefully on his tongue before closing them again in concentration. He moved the compass rose back and forth, first in wide arcs, then smaller and smaller, oscillating towards a final resting point. When all motion had ceased, Strauss opened his eyes once more. "She is located north by northwest, exact angle... between twenty and twenty-three degrees west of north. In terms of distance..." He pulled out a ruler, measured the length of the circle he'd drawn, then consulted a reference book he pulled out of his pocket. "...approximately 1.4 to 1.6 miles away." He pulled out a notepad and wrote the information down, handing it to me. "With this, tracking down the Plaguebearer should be easy enough. You mentioned that she operates out of a hotel – it should be a simple matter to locate this edifice within the ranges I have provided."

I took the note and smiled, genuinely grateful. "Thank you so much, Regent Strauss. I can't tell you how grateful I am." He acknowledged my thanks with only a nod. Looking down at the notepad, I thought of the reason I'd come to the Chantry in the first place – at Paul and Pisha's request. "Do you think killing the Plaguebearers responsible will cure those infected by them?"

Strauss shook his head. "The ghouls under their command will be freed from their compulsions, but they and their victims will remain ill. Developing a cure will take time. If you are interested in helping develop a cure, make sure you take a sample of the blood of the plaguebearer you are tracking down. In fact, gathering such a sample will be invaluable to locating the other plagebearers – and as your report makes clear, there are multiple agents at work here." Strauss handed me a syringe and looked me in the eyes. "If you get the chance to take the blood of the plaguebearer, do so without hesitation. Understood?"

I nodded and took the syringe, glad that I had some kind of plan, that I was working with such a competent individual. Everything had felt so out of control lately... "I understand completely. I'll start tracking down this Kindred right away."

"Do not let arrogance cloud your judgment – do not attempt to confront the creature alone. I would strongly recommend that you speak to the Anarchs before attempting any such confrontation with the Kindred responsible – the Brujah are excellent warriors and bodyguards, when you can calm them enough to be reasonable. Let them think they have achieved victory, that they have solved this problem, and they will be more than eager to aid you. This will allow you to simultaneously serve the Kindred community of Los Angeles and increase your reputation with both the Anarchs and the Camarilla. In this way, you shall advance yourself. Are there any questions?"

I sat, kind of stunned by all this. _Here he is, handing me what I need on a silver platter. It all seems so easy and sensible – I'm not about to go after some unknown Kindred without backup, and I do want to see the Anarchs before going and doing this, yet... why does this seem so slimy? Why do I feel like a two-faced liar for going along with this? Whatever. It makes perfect sense. And why is Strauss trying to get me to be good with the Anarchs? What's he playing at? Have to be careful about how I word this..._ "Do you think the Anarchs will be able to help me? Can they be relied on?"

Strauss nodded. "They will do well enough, and are worth maintaining alliance with if possible – though the same holds true for any Kindred with powerful capabilities. They can be relied on in the short-term, for singular missions, but I would caution against long-term dependence, as they will inevitably disappoint you."

I nodded, thinking for a second. "All of them? Even Nines?"

Strauss sighed, then looked at me over the edge of his glasses. "The infamous Mr. Rodriguez. You owe him your life twice now. Had he not intervened, the Prince would have surely had that hound of his separate your head from your shoulders. It is understandable that you admire him – but be wary, for his tongue is silver and many a young fledgling has been drawn to his siren call, only to be turned to dust as front line cannon-fodder during a battle. The life of an Anarch is as short as it is idealistic."

I nodded, processing his words, knowing that he would see through any obvious attempt to suck up to him or praise the Camarilla – but I still had to conceal the burning passion for revolution that had been ignited within me, a burning passion that even now I was beginning to doubt. "Even so, he's been around for awhile. There's got to be some wisdom to his beliefs. I'm not ready to dismiss him or all the Anarchs yet – but I'm not going to trust them, either, especially not the young ones."

Strauss smiled. "Wise words. The wisdom and power of all your elders should be respected, even that of those you find distasteful – especially those you find distasteful, for it is from such beings that you shall find those secrets and lessons most distant from your mind, and by expanding one's horizons one gains insight and power beyond all measure. In any case, it's a shame that Mr. Rodriguez cannot see the wisdom of the Camarilla. He would make a powerful ally. As it is, he is a significant thorn in Prince LaCroix's side..." His eyes drifted to the side, and his speech went quiet as the grave – only because of Auspex was I able to hear his words, "...which serves my purposes just the same."

I smiled at that. _A little domestic trouble, huh? Maybe I could exploit this..._ "What do you think of Prince LaCroix?"

His eyes darted back to be, harsh and angry. "I do not gossip about my superiors behind their back. Do not ever insinuate that I do so, and do not ever do so yourself – understood?"

I realized the gravity of my situation, how terribly I'd screwed up, how I should have pretended to hear nothing. I nodded furiously, my eyes wide with fear. "I didn't mean to imply that you would say anything negative – I was simply curious! Please forgive me, Regent Strauss."

Strauss, sighed, waving away my worry like a minor issue, putting me at ease. "Do not fret so. You have been most civil up until this point. I spoke harshly. Suffice to say... LaCroix is a Prince, Neonate, and a Ventrue on top of that. Even if he weren't as young and indiscriminate as he's already proven himself to be, I – but I say too much. Let us just say that he and I have differing views and the use of power."

I nodded, accepting what little glimpse of discord I'd been given, knowing nothing would be revealed more openly than that – I'd learned enough of the way of the Kindred to know that such disagreements happened behind closed doors. _Hell, I might actually be starting to get the hang of this game. If only I wasn't stuck playing such a dangerous position... Still, good to know that there's trouble on the home front with the Camarilla. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to – but not right now. Shouldn't even try to wade into that mess. Just focus on the task at hand, try to stay alive._ "I see. Well, I suppose I should get going towards The Last Round – this time in a cab. Not trying to run into another Sabbat pack tonight."

Strauss smiled a little at that. "Indeed. There is nothing quite like an encounter with the Sabbat to instill the lesson of safety and security into the minds of the young. Make sure you remember this lesson as you grow more confident in your abilities – there are always stronger, older fiends prowling the night. Good evening, Neonate." With that farewell, I left the safety and security of the Chantry, heading out into the dark, dangerous streets once again.


	33. Chapter 32: Children of the Grave

Of course, the streets are a lot less dangerous when you take a cab. I stepped out of the vehicle in front of the concrete fortress that was The Last Round. I quickly walked over to door and pulled myself into the security of the place, eying the back alleys warily.

There was some local punk band blasting garish music from the corner. A few kids were headbanging in front of the small stage, but most of the patrons were older and couldn't care less, sitting and nursing their drinks. I got a few looks for my suit – I seemed completely out of place here. I walked past everyone, straight for the steel door at the back. I knocked and waited, listening to the thrashing sound. The singer seemed drunk, stumbling around the stage as he screamed into the microphone.

"You made a machine of me! You made a machine of me! Too late, too late, you had your fucking chance! Now walk away, and say goodbye!"

A small square slid open on the door, and Damsel's eyes peered out at me for a moment. The square slid closed, and I heard the five locks click open before the door did. An arm reached out and jerked me inside.

"Hey!" I protested as Damsel shut and locked the door. "What gives?"

Damsel glared at me. "What gives? Are you serious, fledge? Where the fuck have you been? It's been hours since you called. What, did you have to give your Camarilla masters a report before coming and talking to us? Need them to tell you what to say, how to play us before you came in here and spied on us?"

I held up my free hand defensively, realizing how much of a square I looked like with my briefcase being held in the other one, with my newly-scavenged suit. "Hey, it's not like that, I can explain-"

"Explain to Nines. I don't give a shit. C'mon." I followed her up the stairs.

I was disappointed to see that Jack was nowhere to be found. Skelter stared at me, cold and unreadable, but his aura seethed suspicion and hostility. Nines leaned against the wall, seemingly cold and disinterested, but I could see that he was equal parts curious and suspicious. There was someone new, a woman, a Kindred, sitting at one of the tables, looking at me intensely. She was dressed plainly, wearing a loose woven grey shirt with some kind of elaborate and colorful pattern on the back. Her flower-inlaid skirt and brown shawl with some kind of arabic stitched into it made her look like a hippy. But her eyes and aura showed anything but free love – cold and analytical, her hazel gaze made me feel like I was being dissected.

Nines took a long drag on his cigarette, then threw it to the ground and stomped it out. He walked up to me, staring me right in the eyes. I met his gaze – I had nothing to hide... _do I?_ I flinched, my eyes darting to the side.

"Where have you been, Lu? We've been worried about you."

So kind, so innocuous. Yet Damsel had made it clear what the real meaning behind those words were. "Well, after I got off the phone with you, I went upstairs to check on Paul. I found him dead, and talked to the girl he'd got sick from, Hannah. I've got a lead on where we could find the plaguebearer from her. A good one!" I'd hoped that by making myself seem useful, I'd regain the trust I'd lost. But there was no change in anyone's expression, no shift in aura.

"That's great and all, but that doesn't explain hours of time. What held you up for hours on end?"

"Um, well, I ended up going into The Confession to get some blood, and after talking with the owner, she told me I could make some money taking care of some Russian mob guys she owed money to. I had to run into the sewers to avoid the cops, and while down there, I ran into this Kindred – Pisha, the one who had killed the film crew, and-"

"What kind of bullshit story is this?" Damsel blurted out. "You really think we don't know what you've been up to?"

I turned to her, defensive. "I'm telling the truth!" Even as I said it, I realized how bizarre the story of my night sounded. "What makes you think-"

Nines answered my question before I could voice it. "One of our people saw you go into the Chantry, Lu."

I stood, silent, unable to explain myself. _Why did I go there first? Why-_

"What's the matter, Cam? Cat got your tongue?" Damsel taunted. "Your regent didn't tell you what to say if you got found out?"

Nines raised a hand. "Let the man speak for himself, Damsel."

"I, I... Look, I know you told me to come here first. But I... I had a promise to keep. To Paul. He wanted me to find out if there was a cure, to take Hannah's blood somewhere and-"

Damsel snorted derisively "Bullshit. I'm pretty sure Paul's either gone or dead."

I nodded. "Paul is dead. But that doesn't mean I can't talk to him."

The newcomer spoke up for the first time. "Your sire taught you necromancy?"

I looked over to her, uncomfortable by how intensely she stared at me... or rather, through me. _Does she know Auspex? Can she see my aura? Good. Then she should know I'm telling the truth. _"No, she didn't." I turned to Nines. "Did Joey tell you about the Kindred we found in the morgue of the hospital?"

Nines nodded. "I'm kind of curious about her. Apparently she ate the corpses of the film crew?"

I nodded, enthusiastically moving to steady ground, for the chance to explain myself. "Yeah. She says she's some kind of strange Kindred, a Nagaraja. She has to eat flesh and drink blood. She made a joke about how that made her closer to Jesus than most Kindred. Heh." Skelter bared his teeth, obviously not amused. Nor was anyone else. I continued my story. "Anyway, she gave Joey this piece of paper with Necromancy instructions on it, and I Dominated him into giving it to me so I could make a copy-"

"Joey mentioned," Nines interrupted, "that you stole something from him. Why?"

"I didn't steal anything," I protested. "I made a copy and gave him the original. I figured it might be useful information. And it was. See, when I went to check out Paul's apartment, I found him dead on the floor. I couldn't find anything else, and almost gave up, when I realized that I could talk to his ghost!"

Silence filled the room for a moment. Skelter broke the silence. "You expect us to buy this bullshit?"

"Hey!" I clenched my fists, frustrated. _It doesn't matter how hard I try at this, I can't get anywhere!_. "I can prove to you that I spoke to Paul's ghost. I could summon him right here, and you can talk to _him_ if you won't believe me." _If they won't listen to me, they'll listen to Paul._

Nines looked over to the woman. She nodded, and Nines shifted to . "What do you need?"

"Just a mirror. A large one, like the size of a bathroom mirror."

Nines nodded to Damsel, who walked into the women's bathroom. Skelter scowled, simply stating "This is bullshit," under his breath once again.

Nines just waved him to silence, and I sat, resentful. _What did I do to earn this suspicion, this hostility? I mean, really, I got a little distracted. One thing just seemed to lead into another. First I got distracted by Patty, then Venus, then Pisha... Then Strauss, which obviously was a mistake. But it was Paul that wanted me to go there... and Pisha insisted. And why did I have to obey? It seems like I've just been doing whatever others asked of me, failing to assert myself. I've been to afraid to make a decision, because then I'd have to stick with that decision. I guess I've been trying to avoid responsibility and hope that by pleasing everyone, I can get by. Isn't that kind of submissive and pathetic? Isn't that exactly what the Camarilla wants – and what the Anarchs want me to fight against? I guess it kind of makes sense that they're mad at me – if I cared, I would have made it a point to come here as soon as possible. Even so, Pisha made me promise, and Paul was so adamant about me finding a cure, and I just wanted to appease him to make him shut up..._

My thoughts were interrupted my a crashing sound coming from the bathroom. Damsel came out a moment later, hefting a mirror that still had four bolts attached to the corners, with small chunks of tile and concrete still attached to the bolts – she's clearly just ripped the mirror off the wall. "Where do you want this thing, Cam?"

I blinked, taken aback, taking a moment to compose myself. "Uh, just against the wall will be fine, thanks."

She set it down against the wall where Nines had been leaning. Brushing her hands off, she said, "Well, mage, do your magic. I got twenty bucks says nothing happens but you make an ass of yourself."

I scowled right back at her. "I'll take you up on that bet. Twenty bucks says you'll see Paul staring out at you from that mirror when I'm done."

She extended her hand and I shook it. "You're on. Good luck, mage. Hope you roll a ten on this one."

With a chuckle, she sat down in a chair next to the woman, who simply commented, "This should be interesting."

Nines and Skelter stood stoically on either side of the table where they sat. Nines gestured to the mirror. "Show us what you got, Lu."

I took an unneeded breath to calm myself and went into the meditative bubble. I sat down in front of the mirror, aware of how on the spot I now was. I opened my briefcase and pulled out the chalk and candles.

Damsel interrupted my concentration with a snide comment. "What else you got in there, mage? A spellbook? Maybe a scroll for magic missle?"

I turned around, starting to get really annoyed with this obnoxious bitch. Nines just gave her this _look_ that told her to back off, but I wasn't going to take this quietly. "For your information, all the papers in here are the reports you asked me to get. Here," I said as I shoved the briefcase into her hands, "read over them if this whole thing bores you. Make yourself useful instead of just distracting me with your stupid comments."

That actually shut her up, remarkably enough. Well, okay, it was Nines that got her to shut up, but at least I wiped that condescending smirk off her face. I sat and concentrated. _What were the symbols? What did the circle look like? Paul? A little help here?_ But despite concentrating on entering the morbid meditative state, despite holding onto his finger, there was no answer, and I started to get nervous that maybe Paul wasn't around, that maybe I was about to be proven a fool in front of everyone. I shoved these doubts aside and focused on my own memories – after all, I'd just done this earlier this night. _Shouldn't be hard._ I carefully drew the inner and outer circles, the seven-sided star inside the inner circle, and worked to picture the symbols that went between the circles. I checked and double-checked my work, wishing I had the paper or at least Paul to consult. This was the first time I was completely on my own here. I had to erase a couple of symbols a couple of times, but when I was done, I was certain of my work. _Certain enough to etch it in blood._

I drew my serpentine blade, to the fascinated stares of Skelter and the new woman. I opened my vein just a little and began copying the summoning circle onto the mirror. When both circles were done, I placed the candles at the seven points and placed my knife to the side of the circle. I let out my breath in relief. "Alright. Everything's ready. Now I just need to..." I pulled out Paul's finger and put it in the middle of the circle.

"Is that... Paul's finger?" Damsel asked.

I looked up at her and could see fascination in her eyes and aura. _Seems like even she thinks this has a chance of working._ "Yeah. I need a piece of his body to make this work. Now, I'm going to need complete silence in order to concentrate at this next part. Assuming I've done everything correctly up until now, Paul should appear in the mirror, through the summoning circle. Alright, here goes." I shut my eyes and focused, entering the bubble, going deep inside, focusing on the concept of death, entering the morbid meditative state. I thought of Paul, thought of his face, his name, his voice, his connection to me. I focused all my will on this – I needed him now more than ever.

I had been focusing so long I was starting to worry he wouldn't show up – and right as I began to be assailed by doubt, there he was, first a ghost of an image, then more and more solid. I heard Damsel gasp in surprise, heard everyone around me stir as they saw their onetime friend appear in the mirror. When his image was as solid as mine, I relaxed, though I kept up my focus to maintain the connection. "Hey, Paul. Some of your old friends want to talk to you."

Paul seemed upset. "I hope this is important. I'd just run into this old ghost who was starting to explain how things work in the afterlife – telling me about this group called the Hierarchy, and-" he cut himself off when he realized who was here, where he was. "Damsel! Nines! Skelter! Mazoline! My god, I thought I'd never see any of you again!"

Mazoline seemed to be the most affected by the presence of Paul – she was openly upset and amazed, fascinated and terrified. "Paul? Is that really you, Paul? Can it be? I haven't seen you in weeks – I'd thought you were gone forever..."

Paul shrugged. "Well, I mean, I guess I kind of am, only I'm not really gone. It's like... like this weird reflection of the normal world. Darker, I guess, and weirder."

Skelter was also visibly agitated. "What's on the other side, man? What happened when you crossed over? Were you given a chance to get into heaven?"

Paul laughed. "I wasn't given much of a chance of anything. The crossing over was weird. There wasn't any light, no angel or demon, just... everything started to swim. For awhile, I didn't even realize I was dead. I just felt the way I did when I died – sick and helpless, everything swimming in a fever dream. I eventually spotted my body and realized what has going on, but that didn't help me. Then Lucuis summoned me, and I was hovering over my body and things just got clear. I fed on his curiosity – the old soul I was talking to said spirits feed on feelings and energies. I was able to walk through my front door – literally – and get out of my apartment. Honestly, I owe Lucius here a bunch for all the help he's given me. It's so amazingly fulfilling to still be connected to the living world. I don't feel so dead, you know?"

I smiled, glad that I was finally getting some praise. However, I should have known it was too good to be true. Skelter just muttered, "Bullshit. Probably an illusion or some shit. Don't buy it." l

Paul seemed crestfallen. "Hey, c'mon, you know it's me, don't you Skelter? Your old buddy Paul?"

I got so upset I nearly lost my concentration, causing Paul's image to flicker in the mirror. "Excuse me?" I challenged Skelter.

Nines intervened. "Look, Lu, can you keep this portal up, even if you're not here?" I nodded. "Good. I need you to sit in the bathroom for a few minutes. Just so we can confirm this is actually Paul, and not an illusion. Don't worry – Paul was Mazoline's ghoul, so she'llif you're telling the truth about what happened tonight, we're about to have proof. I promise we won't make you wait long, but this has to be done. Understand?"

I nodded, meekly accepting what really was an unfair demand. Right before the door closed behind me, I looked out at the Anarchs – they were standing around the mirror, staring with faces set in stone, dead serious – seriously deadly for me. I walked into the Men's room and sat on the filthy floor, head in my hands, massaging away a headache caused in part by the focus and in part by the whole situation. I was angry at the way I was being treated, but I was mostly scared. I looked around for any escape route – none. There were iron bars on the window, and the walls were two foot thick concrete. The fortress had become a prison.

_Why the fuck are they treating me like this? I've done nothing but try and help them..._ But my thoughts rang untrue as soon as I thought them. _After all, didn't I just badmouth the Anarchs to Strauss? Didn't I go crawling into the Chantry before talking to them? But, but... what drove me to do that? Paul. I was trying to get away from him... and to appease him. God, I really have just been trying to please everyone, haven't I? My passivity has led to nothing but trouble and danger, and almost no recognition or reward for going through any of it. Is this what I want? To keep being tossed around and used until I get thrown away or end up killed by the Sabbat? I've had no spine, never tried to actually stand up to anyone, stand up for anything – not even for myself. Except for occasionally lashing out at Damsel – and even then, only when I knew I could get away with it. Honestly, her suspicions are justified. Am I loyal to them? Who am I loyal to? Do I even have a say now? After all, I'm pretty sure Strauss has some kind of hold over me I don't even understand. Am I being used as some kind of pawn here? Am I going to end up reporting everything I hear back to him? I already did that once. True, nothing was secret, but still, the eagerness with which I spilled the beans was kind of strange... I have to avoid looking him in the eyes if possible, who knows how much Domination he's been using. But I have to deal with a more fundamental question, here – who do I belong to? What do I stand for? And unfortunately, I have no answers. I like what the Anarchs stand for, but they seem so disorganized. Then again, maybe I could help them get organized. Maybe I should openly voice my concerns to them. Maybe I should just grow a freaking pair and speak my mind, instead of tiptoeing around any Kindred I have an issue with, stop trying just to suck up and be liked, or at least tolerated I've become a coward and a bully, preying on mortals weaker than me and desperately trying to please Kindred stronger than me. And where has it got me? I'm disliked by all, except those who can use me. If I keep up this path, I'll be nothing more than a pathetic puppet. Is that what I want? A path of safety and submission? And is it really safe if I just do as I'm told? Is that an unlife worth living? Just who am I, exactly? _

I felt a terrible sadness, a sense of rejection and loneliness, well up inside me. I realized that I was wanted by no group right now unless I could be used by them. I was being evaluated. Until I demonstrated that I had some spine, some conviction, no one cared about me. Who could I turn to? Only myself. And at that moment, I understood that I had to stand strong not just to prove to those around me that I had worth and strength – more than anything else, I had to grow a spine because only I would stand up for me.

The door opened, and Nines was standing there, stoic and expressionless, his sharp blue eyes piercing me, boring into me. I stood up and met his gaze. The instinct to look away, to cringe, was strong – I'd had a whole lifetime of avoidance and submission to ingrain those habits into myself. But if this second life was teaching me anything, it was that among the Kindred, being a meekly submissive part of the social whole was not an option. How had Strauss put it? _Solitary predators, not communal herbivores. And who knows? Maybe that kind of submissive, unquestioning behavior has been trained into humanity by Kindred. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I need to stand tall if I want to stand at all in this world. _So I met his gaze, even though I felt like I didn't deserve to, even though I knew that I was an inconsistent loyalty-free agent at best, and that I might well be an unwilling spy at worst. It didn't matter. I met his sharp gaze, unflinching.

The silence stretched on, deafening, for what seemed like minutes, though I doubt more than one passed. Then Nines simply turned and walked away from the doorway. I followed, cautious and confused. Damsel and the other woman were sitting in front of the mirror, conversing with Paul, while Skelter stood back, looking at the mirror like it was cursed. _Which, given his religious beliefs, he might actually believe._

Nines stopped directly behind Damsel, who turned from Paul to face me. "Well, Cam, I gotta hand it to you. You've either actually managed to summon Paul's ghost,or that's the best illusion I've ever seen. Here you go, you're twenty bucks richer." She unceremoniously tossed me a balled-up bill.

"There's still one issue that needs to be addressed," Nines said. "You story checked out, but there's still one thing I got to know: why did you go to the Chantry before coming here? Paul couldn't get inside the Chantry. What went on in there?"

My first instinct was to come up with something, to assuage their fears... which I realized would only make them more suspicious. _As hard as it is, maybe I should try being honest._ "I went to Strauss first because he seems to know what he's doing more than you do. I know that's harsh, but really, who would know more about supernatural illness than the Tremere? And after you all sent me into that mess in the hospital without backup or even a briefing on the situation, no offense but I didn't exactly have much faith in you all. I figured that since I'd already emailed you the reports, there was no rush to get back here. Besides, before I went to Strauss, all I had was a sad story from Paul and a couple of infected blood samples. Now, I've got our plaugebearer's location." I pulled out the piece of paper Struass had given me and handed it over to Nines. "Our target's in an Empire Arms Hotel somewhere in that area."

Nines looked over me, evaluating me, revealing nothing in his face.. I could see hope and suspicion in his aura. Without taking his gaze from me, he handed the paper over to Damsel. "See if this checks out. If there's an Empire Arms around there, get me an address." Damsel looked over the paper, then looked at me, suspicion and hostility in her gaze and aura. She walked over to a small table near the back of the bar, pulling out a map and a phone book. Nines kept staring at me the entire time. He was making me more and more uncomfortable, and I shifted nervously, putting my hands in my pockets and staring at my feet. I realized how suspicious this was making me look and steadied myself, lifting my eyes and meeting Nines' gaze. We stood there in silence, the only sound was the turning of pages as Damsel looked up all the Empire Arms Hotels in the city, marking them down on a large map that showed LA divided up into various territories, battle lines drawn in the streets.

"Um... Am I missing something?" Paul broke the silence. "Why's everyone so quiet?"

The woman seated on the floor, the hippie-looking one, turned to the mirror. "It's... nothing. Don't worry about it. So, you were telling me about what it's like to be a ghost..." Her voice was so soothing, so comforting, I just wanted to focus on her words and ignore all the drama and tension in the room.

"Oh, yeah, it's really weird. I was just talking with this old-looking ghost who was explaining to me that this reflection of the living world is called the shadowlands, and that there's this weird storm under this reality, called the Tempest, and..."

Nines broke me away from my escape in the mirror, pulling me back to the tension with a commanding voice. "Why should I trust you?"

_I don't know if you should. But I want you to. _"Because I like what you stand for, and I'm willing to help you out. Because I'm the one who's going to solve this epidemic for you. Because I'm the only one who can get blood-magic secrets from the Chantry without being bound to it. Strauss taught me another skill tonight. I can take any blood sample and analyze it. This can help us find the plaguebearers."

Nines looked over to Skelter. "That answer your questions?"

Skelter looked down and muttered, "Still don't trust him," but said no more.

"I got something," Damsel piped in. Nines walked over to her, looking at the map. "There's one in the area. Of course, we still have to narrow things down a little. We've got a whole hotel to look for. You got anything that could help us out, Cam?"

I nodded. "Yeah, as a matter of fact. Hannah gave me the name the Kindred we're looking for. It's... it's, uh..."

"Jezebel!" Paul interjected. "Hannah said her name was Jezebel. Jezebel Locke."

Damsel nodded. "Okay, a name makes things a lot easier. Especially a weird name like that. Now, should we call in, or do you think that would tip her off?"

Nines thought for a moment, so I decided to go ahead and interject. "I think we could call in. Hannah made it sound like this Jezebel was having visitors over all the time, calling up prostitutes to infect and ghoul as often as she could. I don't think it will raise any flags."

Nines thought for a moment. "Maybe... of course, she could have already ghouled the whole hotel staff. Better safe than sorry. Go there and talk to them in person. Skelter, I want you to lead this operation. You good with that?"

Skelter stood to attention, the picture of a good soldier standing tall before his commander. "Of course, man. Whatever you need. I just... do I gotta take him?" Skelter gestured to me with his head.

Nines turned to me. "You wanna be a part of this, Lu? You've already done enough by getting us a target. We can take care of this on our own."

The temptation to sit this one out was tremendous, but I had to be involved for three reasons. One, I wanted to make sure that I got that blood sample. Secondly, I wanted to seem strong and resolute in front of the Anarchs. And third... I wanted to see this Plaguebearer with my own eyes. What kind of creature deliberately spread disease among the populace of a major city? What kind of Sabbat freak would be into this? I wanted to see the Kindred responsible, and learn why they'd done this. "I want to be a part of this. You need me. I can check the Auras of the staff, see if anything is up. Also, I can use Paul as a scout. Hey Paul, you mind slipping through the hotel door before we face this Kindred, you know, check and make sure she's not ready for us or has a trap set or anything?"

"Paul looked up from his conversation with Mazoline. "I, uh, yeah, sure."

"Okay, cool. Then stick close to me." I grabbed his finger from the center of the circle, and Paul promptly disappeared from the mirror.

Mazoline gripped my arm. "Wait! I wasn't done talking to my ghoul."

"Oh, I, uh, sorry, but I'd have to spill a bunch of blood and start the whole spell over, and I thought Nines wanted us to get started on this as soon as possible."

Mazoline looked over at the mirror, a wistful look in her eyes. But her aura exuded curiosity, and I could tell that she was more driven by a desire to understand than sentiment. "Is there any way you could teach me this art? Might I be allowed to keep Paul's fingerbone?"

"Um... I can maybe teach you how to do this. Do you know Aupex?" She nodded. "Are you good with it? Can you see aura's clearly?" She nodded again. "Okay. Then, I guess just memorize or write down the patterns and symbols in the circle. It's the same design in chalk and in blood, just make sure you carefully get the orientation of the chalk circle to the blood one. Just get that straight, and I'll explain the rest when you have that memorized. I can't give up the finger, though. I can only hear Paul when I touch it, and I'm going to need his help at this hotel. If he can scout ahead for us, we won't be taken by surprise. Maybe I can cut his finger in half or something, or get another part of him later. We can figure that out when I get back."

Mazoline nodded, accepting the offer. Nines was looking me over. "That's great and all, but can you hold your own once you get in there? If you get hurt in a fight, you're a liability to us."

"I can hold my own. As long as Skelter keeps this Plaugebearer at a distance, I can use my blood magic to kill her in no time. Can you do that for me, Skelter?" Skelter just scowled at me.

"Skelter knows what he's doing. Just make sure you keep yourself safe, and everything will be fine." Nines turned from me and faced Skelter, who stopped scowling immediately and stood to attention. "I expect you both to stay on task and not let anything distract you from what you're doing. This is a vital operation. If we can show that we're able to handle this problem, maybe the Barons will start trusting us again." _Hm... More politics. I wish I knew about all those independent players Jack was talking about..._ "Let's do this right, keep everything low key. You ready?"

"Always ready, Nines."

Nines let the smallest smile onto his face. "I figured. Take your car over to the hotel and scope the place out. If you run into anything unusual, call Damsel before moving in. If everything seems clear, call me before taking down the Plaguebearer. Try and get some answers out of them before taking them out, but always remember that priority one is getting rid of the target. Now get going. Time to make the streets a little safer for all of us, human or vampire." With that instructive and inspiring briefing, we were dismissed.

I followed Skelter out to his car, a red mustang convertible parked on the road next to The Last Round. We drove off into the night – all three of us, on a post-mortem mission.

… … …

We were driving through downtown at barely a crawl. _At this pace, I could go faster walking. _I couldn't help but be impatient – I'd spent more than enough of my life in traffic. I wasn't trying to spend this one staring at a bumper, too. I tried to kill the monotony with conversation – we'd been silent until this point.

"So, uh, nice car."

Skelter gave me the most cursory of glances, dismissing me as irrelevant with a look. "Yeah. It is," was all he replied.

_Okay..._ "Hey, so look, I was thinking that maybe we could go over our plan for what we're doing when we get to the hotel, discuss details..."

"Look, I can do this myself. If you're nervous, or just plain scared, get out now. I think the Chantry is right near here. You can go home and let me take care of this shit on my own."

I didn't need this. "The Chantry isn't my home. Hell, I'm not even allowed in there without signing something. I don't need this suspicion, and honestly, I think you're being arrogant to think you can do this by yourself. I know you think I don't know anything because I'm just a fledgling, but-"

"No, I think you're ignorant and arrogant because you're a nerd who thinks you know everything just 'cause you read a few secret Tremere books. I don't trust you because you're spineless. When I see you hold your ground under fire, or stand up for our beliefs and our rights to an elder, then I might respect you a little."

I just nodded, sullen and uninterested in talking to Skelter more. The car crawled on in silence for what seemed like ages. Finally, we came to the gates of The Confession. And then we stopped going anywhere for awhile – traffic was abhorrent. I was almost tempted to step out and try to get the money Venus owed me, while we were stopped and all, when I saw her.

"Oh, shit. Not her."

"Who? Why... oh. I see her. Shit."

She'd spotted me and lit up, all but skipping over to our car, which was stuck at a standstill in front of the club.

"Hi!" Patty droned at me in that grating nasal voice of hers as she approached the car. "Crazy seeing you again so soon! And look, you're hanging out with Skelter! I didn't know you two were friends! Hi Skeltie!"

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I wanted to crawl away from her into the seat. _This is too awkward._ She had sauntered up to the car and was leaning on the side of the door, all smiles. Skelter was not amused – his scowl was widening, his teeth bared, and a I started to hear a low growl come from his throat. "Get off my car!" he barked.

Patty stood up and put her hand on her hip, cowed but refusing to show it. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scratch the paint. Stylish ride." She looked over the car, then glanced at Skelter out of the corner of her eye. "So... any word from Kent? I know he's been talking to you."

Skelter stopped looking at her and fixed his gaze firmly on the bumper ahead of him. "I told you, Kent's dead. You need to give up on him if you know what's good for you."

Patty gave him a look of dismissive condescention. "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean? What, are you gonna ice me, right here, in front of everyone? I know how the Masquerade works, I'm not an idiot. I know Kent's not dead. I'm not going to stop asking around until I find out where he is."

I could see Skelter tightening his grip on the steering wheel, almost crushing it. "Murder ain't against the Masquerade. Shit happens every day in LA." He finally turned to look at her, death in his eyes. "You, on the other hand, are the biggest threat to the Masquerade around here. Only time that mouth ain't blabbin' is when it's sucking vampire blood. You keep makin' a scene, you bring some real heat down on us, you see what happens."

Now she was visibly upset, though I'd seen fear enter her aura already. "God, Skelter, you don't have to be so harsh. I'm keeping things under control, and-"

"No, you're not!" Skelter screamed at her, baring his teeth and causing her to jump back in fear. "You're a hopelessly ruined blood-addict that needs her fix and will do anything to get it. You're a danger to us all. If I ever see you again around here, I'm putting you in the fucking ground. You understand me?"

She nodded, eyes wide and terrified. Skelter stared her down, looking for all the world like he was about to leap out of the car and rip her head off, then and there. I knew I needed to intervene before he did something stupid.

"Uh, Skelter, traffic's moving. We got a mission. Forget about her. She's not worth your time."

Skelter blinked and seemed to come back to himself. He looked forward and drove off, turning off the main road as soon as he could. We were mobile again.

We drove in silence for a few minutes. I broke the silence by trying to commiserate with Skelter. "God, what an obnoxious person. She's such a user."

Skelter grunted in consent. "She used to show up around The Last Round and act like she was everybody's best friend. It was all fun and games until her vampire sugar daddy stopped calling. Now she can't get her blood fix things ain't so fun no more."

"Is there any cure for blood addiction?"

"If there is, it's a pretty deep secret. It's especially bad 'cause Kent spoiled her rotten. Most of the time, you feed your ghoul every two weeks or so. He fed her blood every damn day, or as often as she felt like sucking him off. There's no fixing that. She was a plaything to him, a way to have fun and get fucked up. He'd have her do a bunch of drugs and get him off. Called her his way to feel human again. I called her a problem waiting to happen. Guess who turned out to be right?"

"So what are you going to do about her?"

Skelter uttered a dark chuckle. "What do you think? She's gotta disappear before she brings vampire hunters down on us. Last thing we need on top of CDC and all this federal attention we're getting right now. It would be one of the worst shitstorms we've seen in awhile. And we've seen a lot of those lately."

"Are you sure that's the only way? I mean... it's not like its her fault she ended up like this."

Skelter scowled derisively. "And it's not a junkie's fault they ended up like that. I'm still gonna smash their face in if I catch them trying to rob my haven. We gotta do what we gotta do to survive. You might not get that, cause you're so young, but the world of the Kindred is the world of kill or be killed. You'll either figure that out or you'll end up ash."

I glowered back at Skelter. "I get it. I got shoved into this world at full speed, with no crash course, no lesson, no breaks. I know it better than anyone my age, I'm sure. I was just asking. Honestly, if you're too busy to take care of her, I could handle that problem with discretion."

Skelter actually smiled at me – a little. "Alright, have fun. I'd love to do this myself, but I have way too much shit on my plate right now. Just let me know when it's done. C'mon, we're here."

We parked and got out. I held the door for Paul while Skelter put up the top. I held his finger and started talking to him. "Paul, when we get in there, I need you to scout the place out. If you see anything out of the ordinary, come get me. I'll have an ear open for you."

"No problem," Paul whispered to me.

Skelter eyed me askance. "Don't trust this supernatural shit. Ain't right. Soul's supposed to pass on."

"Who knows how things are supposed to be? I wasn't the one who kept him here. Besides, he wants to help us. Why not let him?" Skelter wasn't convinced, but it was irrelevant. We walked through the front door.

The lobby was very high-class. Gilded chandeliers cast a golden light over the room, making the gold-inlaid marble floors seem to glow. It reeked of roman opulence. Busboys in uniform were pushing around luggage, and a man in a tuxedo stood by the front desk. Skelter and I approached him, while I scanned the staff with Auspex. _Nothing out of the ordinary... yet._

The receptionist looked up. "Can I help you?"

Skelter took the lead. "Yeah. We got a, uh, meeting with Jezebel. Jezebel Locke. We forgot the room number. Just tell us what it is and we'll go right up and see her."

I saw his aura get suspicious, and I went on guard. "I'm sorry, but it is hotel policy not to give away information about our guests. If you want, I could call her room and and ask her if it is alright for you to come up. May I have your names?"

I was so intent on reading the receptionist's aura, I almost missed an important detail – rage was creeping into Skelter's. "Listen, man," he began, "we already had an appointment set up with her, we don't have time for this shit. Give me the damn room number... _now._" He growled that last word, low and menacing.

I could see what he was trying to do – use his Presence to intimidate the receptionist into compliance. I could also see by his aura that is wasn't working. I noticed something subtle – his hand seemed to be reaching for something. _A security button?_ I had to act fast.

"Look, what my friend here is _trying_ to say-" I hooked his attention, I could see him relax when looking at me – no doubt this high-class place had certain prejudices, and my suit and uptight demeanor probably put the guy at ease. "-is that our business with Miss. Locke is rather... sensitive, and discretion is very important to us. We'd rather not give our names. I hope you understand."

The man blushed, obviously somewhat aware of what was going on in that room. "Yes, of course, but all previous, er, guests of Miss Locke had been scheduled ahead of time and knew exactly what room to go to. I'm sorry, but I simply cannot alter hotel policy."

Skelter's anger was growing. "Listen-"

I interrupted him, much to his chagrin, and looked the receptionist straight in the eyes. "I understand, but we simply are not comfortable giving out our names. We could go back home, email her, get the information and come back, but that's very inconvenient for all parties involved. Miss Locke is a busy woman, as I'm sure you're aware. If we have to go through that whole rigamarole, I will be sure to make her aware that it was the hotel staff that prevented a very... lucrative meeting from taking place. I guarantee, we are expected guests. She has so many, it shouldn't be that surprising that there was a scheduling issue about one appointment. So, for the sake of everyone involved, why don't you just tell us the room number."

I'd put him at ease, and his mind accepted the instructions willingly. "Certainly, sir. That seems reasonable. Her room number is 480."

"Thank you." And so we headed to the elevator in silence.

The instant the doors shut, Skelter burst out. "I had that."

I eyed him askance, annoyed but wary. "No, you didn't. I could see it in his aura. He was about to to call security. That kind of tactic might work on the streets, but not in a high-class place like this."

I knew I'd screwed up as soon as the words were out of my mouth. "Oh, so what, you think I'm some kind of low-class thug? Is that it? That I'm here as muscle, and that's all I'm good for?"

_Well, maybe if you didn't act so much like it..._ "Look that's not what I meant. Let's just focus on the task at hand, okay? We need to be on point."

Skelter snorted derisively. "I'm fine. Just try to not get killed. Last thing I need tonight is to get bitched out by Damsel." The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out.

As we walked down the hall, I held Paul's finger and whispered across the veil. "Paul, I need you to go into room 480 and check the place out, make sure there's no traps waiting for us."

"On it," he replied right as we approached the door. We stood outside the locked door for a moment, as I scanned with Auspex. No question – there was a Kindred inside, and there were strange dark swirls in her aura. I got on my knees and started working on the lock, trying to stay quiet and keep an eye on the vampiric aura, trying to see if our target was alerted by the quiet clicking of the tool. I didn't see any agitation, but... something was wrong. The lock clicked, I turned it, and waited.

I held the knob with one hand, the finger with the other. I heard frantic whispering, almost so fast I couldn't understand it. "Oh god, they were like fucking monsters, freaks, so many of them, just feeding off her-"

"Hold on," I whispered, trying not to alert our plaguebearer. "Start over. What's going on?"

"There were... there were these weird ghosts in there. They looked all mutilated and melted and like something out of a nightmare... They were whispering about the infinite darkness and power of oblivion, about how it was about to consume the world, and, and... and they seemed to be feeding off the vampire in there. And as for her... god, she was unnerving. She stared right at me. Right at me. I swear, she saw me, man. I got spooked."

I shook my head, trying to figure out what this meant. "Any traps in there? Anything like a tripwire hooked up to a shotgun we should know about?"

"No, nothing like that. No physical hazards, only spiritual ones."

Skelter interjected, just a bit too loudly. "What's goin' on? We doing this?"

I turned to him. "Keep your voice down!" I hissed. "There's no traps, and the Kindred in question seems unaware of our presence, but... there are weird ghosts in there, and she seemed to see Paul, meaning she has Auspex, meaning maybe she knows we're here. I don't know what it means or what we should do."

"I do. We go in there, figure out what's up with this crazy fucker, get some answers about who their friends are, and waste 'em. So why are we still talking?"

"Skelter, we need to proceed cautiously. Besides, Nines said to call him before-"

Skelter pulled out his phone. "Hey, Nines. We're here. It's all clear. I'm going in now." He hung up and pocketed his cell. "Okay, now let's go."

"Hold on! You didn't even tell him about the ghosts, and-"

Skelter rolled his eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake." With that, he shoved the door open and entered boldly, with me scampering behind him.

The room was dark, so dark it felt like it was filled with some kind of... unlight. I couldn't quite explain it, but I could see small shadows flickering here and there, small glimpses of dark ghostly auras that hovered throughout the room. And front and center, her aura tainted with steaks of poisonous-looking black, was our Plaguebearer, Jezebel Locke.

She was stunning and everything about her screamed of blood. Her low-cut red dress showed off her pale flesh, designed to attract and distract the mortal. But the her red hair, which perfectly matched her dress, perfectly matched the color of vitae, and served to distract the immortal, as well. She stared directly at us with blood-red eyes, beaming a disarming smile at us.

"I was wondering," she uttered with the delicate drawl of a southern belle, "when you gentlemen were going to come in. Who do we have here. Are you believers? Have you come for the kind of enlightenment only Jezebel can give?"

I wasn't sure what to make of her, but I was cautious to avoid her eyes – who knew if she had Dominate or not. It was Skelter who supplied. "I guess you're Jezebel. You look like one. Sorry to bust your bubble, but we don't believe in your fanatic Sabbat shit. So here's how this is gonna go down. You tell us what you've been doing, you tell us about your partners, maybe we just stake you and drag you back to our place, blood-bond you and let you live. You give us shit, you die." He was towering over her, trying to intimidate her. For all external appearances, it was working – she was cowering beneath him, backing up. But her aura indicated otherwise – she was feeling... happy, and... devious.

"Yes, I am Jezebel. I can see I've met one far stronger than I. So I yield. I'll share everything with you, every dirty secret. And I have such things to show you, you giant morsel. Such beautiful, dirty little things. Won't you come into my parlor?" She backed up, seating herself on the bed, keeping her eyes down, her legs crossed – playing the role of the submissive woman, exuding a feeling of raw helplessness.

I watched it happen, on his face and in his aura – I watched him smile, watched the sense of victory and arrogance come over him. I tried to warn him. "Skelter, be careful. She's up to something."

"Whatever, fledge. I got this." He never took his eyes off her. He advanced right up next to her, glowering victoriously over her. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, seemingly awed by him. Her act was flawless – only her aura betrayed her. "Now listen here, you crazy bitch. Here's how this is gonna work. I'm gonna ask questions, and you give me honest answers. If you bullshit me – and we pretty much know everything already, we just need to confirm, so we'll know if you lie – I rip part of you off. You understand me?" She nodded, her eyes growing wider, her body shaking. But she felt no fear. "Now, who do you work for? What are you after?"

Bloody tears welled up in her eyes, making them completely red. "I can't say! I just can't! He ordered me to keep quiet, and when he stared into my eyes, it was like he took over my mind! I may tell nothing about the order to anyone. I can tell you it's not Sabbat, though our leader, our Bishop was once a member of their ranks. And as for what we're after..." She shook her head, crimson tears streaming down her cheeks now. "You couldn't understand. We're trying to cleanse the world. Get rid of all the filth, all the corruption, before Gehenna is nigh." She looked up with desperate hope in her eyes at Skelter. "Do you believe that we are living in the final nights?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I do. And that's all the more reason why we shouldn't go around killing people. We're about to reach judgement day."

"The ones we killed were hardly people. Whores, addicts, derelicts, madmen... all of them, the filth of this house of sin they call the City of Angels. Who better than whores to carry the dark gift I bring? Will they not share it with the rest of those who revel in the pleasures of the flesh? We meant to cleanse this place, to send a wave of death through the rotten parts and leave behind something worthwhile, and in so doing, gain the favor of Caine and our Lord God before the end comes. We meant to strike a blow against that den of complacency and corruption, the Camarilla, without bringing open war, war that would slaughter the innocent. We meant to change things for the better."

Skelter was starting to like her. "I understand where you're comin' from, hon, but a lot of innocent people have died 'cause of this, and you've put us all in danger, Cam or not."

She turned the waterworks on again. "That was what I told our Bishop! But he said to me, he said, 'Jezebel, this is the only way. The end is nigh, there is no time for discretion and subtlety, no time for long-term plans to slowly improve the moral fiber of this pit of filth. The corruption is too widespread, its roots too deep. If we wish to say to our father and creator, when he arrives, 'Look upon the mortal society we have made and be proud!' then we must cleanse this place in short order – or he will consume us all, and rightly so!' These were his words, and they filled me with righteous purpose. A righteous purpose I still believe in."

I watched him succumb to her charms. "Skelter, don't listen to her. Let's just stake her and bring her back to The Last Round and let Nines ask the questions."

"Shut the fuck up, you coward. I got this. No need to bother Nines with this shit. She's obviously not a problem." He turned back to her, the look on his face softening. "Look, I understand where you're coming from. I've thought the same shit a thousand times already. And Nines always says, 'We gotta fight the good fight. Even if sometimes that means sacrificing ground. Even if that means that we can't use dirty underhanded tricks like our enemies do. We're the shepherds of the people of this place. We gotta watch out for 'em.' Trust me, Nines will help this all make sense. That's what he did for me. I used to just rage against everyone and everything, screaming about how disgusting this place was, about how I wasn't gonna be kept down, and I'd fuck whores up for no reason, just rip them in half. I was practically a goddamn beast. Nines calmed me down. He told it to me straight. You hear him tell it to you, it will all make sense. I think we just gotta get you and your leader over to him and you'll see the light."

Jezebel nodded, still staring up at him with doe eyes. "Yes, alright. I've been so conflicted for so long. I've heard of the great Nines Rodriguez. I want to hear his words." She stood up. "Take me to him. I'll follow."

Skelter pulled a wooden stake out of his pocket. "Sorry, but I gotta do this. Nines' orders."

She pouted, and gently put her hand on his. "Do you really have to? Wouldn't it be easier if I just walked out with you? I'll come quietly and willingly, I swear to you on God's salvation!"

"I mean... it would be a lot easier to just walk out, but... I mean..."

"I'll behave... I promise."

"Alright. C'mon, Lu, let's-" As he turned to face me, his eyes widened, and he suddenly stiffened for a moment, before falling limp to the floor, a wooden stake sticking out of his back.

I stared up at the deadly vixen, who was now looking anything but weak and submissive. She bared her teeth at me an screamed apocalyptic nonsense. "You cannot escape me, little morsel. One way or another, will intertwine our beings on our way to the ninth circle, and I will send you both forth, full of the sickness I carry..."

"Don't count on it," I muttered, as I started to picture the images in my mind, muttering the incantations as soon as I'd spit out my retort. Unfortunately, she must have had some idea of what I was up to, because she didn't give me enough time.

She was in my face in an instant, plunging a knife in between my ribs. I gasped in pain as I felt her twist the blade in my heart. But I was used to pain. It would take more than that to faze me.

I pulled out my own blade and sliced her neck open, spilling her tainted, dark blood all over her chest, her dress. She hissed and jumped back, yanking the knife out.

I let out my breath, screaming supernatural curses as I did. I knew Purge would take too long – she was a blur, and I could see she was about to pounce. In fact, I barely got the simple spell out in time – she was in the middle of leaping at me when I hit her with a blood strike.

She screamed in agony as a thousand small cuts ripped themselves open across her skin and leaked blood. She was still coming right at me, but she was distracted. I had just one instant, and I felt my Beast rise in terror, felt the blood adrenaline pump the vitae through my dead arteries, and I reacted with superhuman speed. I leapt out of the way, feeling the cold steel of her blade graze the side of my head.

I hit the floor next to Skelter. I scrambled to get up, and grabbed the stake out of his hand, holding it in one hand, my ceremonial knife in the other. She was howling like a wild animal, covered in blood like Carrie, and glowering at me like her too. We stood for a moment staring at each other, she a blood-covered banshee, I a terrified mage desperately trying to mutter another spell. She wasn't about to give me the chance.

She rushed me. I tried to shove the stake at her, but she'd seen that one coming. She shoved the blade into that wrist and pushed the stake back. I tried to stab her, but she grabbed that wrist and pushed me up against the wall, stabbing her blade into it, pinning me. She shoved her face up to mine, putting her lips to my ear and whispering, "Now you're mine, little morsel. Your friend, I'll turn into my blood slave. But you... you, I'm going to take inside me completely. Every single piece of you."

I was disturbed and bewildered by her seemingly out of place sexual advance – then she bared her fangs and plunged them into my neck.

I felt the pain, but only for a moment – a warm, narcotic fuzziness spread out from the bite, reaching my brain, sending me into a sleepy acceptance. But from the back of my mind, the Beast screamed.

_**That's our blood, you weak-willed fool! Fight back!**_

_I... I mean, it feels so good, and she's, she's..._ I struggled weakly, but she just pushed me down harder and sucked faster.

_**You pathetic weakling! She's going to diablerize us! Do something! NOW!**_

A jolt of fear forced my eyes open, cleared my mind. I desperately tried to shove her off, but she was simply too strong. I felt my lifeblood slipping away, and I felt my death come upon me. But I had enough vitae for one more trick... and just enough time to pull it off.

I carefully pictured the symbols, the concepts, and muttered the incantation. She had nearly taken so much that I didn't have enough vitae to pull it off... nearly. I had just a pint or two left in me, but I pulled it off. The force of the spell poured directly out of my veins, and into hers... and directly out of her veins into her stomach, and out her mouth. She puked my own blood back on me as her eyes widened in shock and horror.

_**Kill this bitch! Gouge out her eyes, drain every drop of blood, and suck out her soul!**_ And in that moment, the Beast took over. He shoved her off me, sending her sprawling onto the floor, spraying bloody vomit into the air like some kind of macabre fountain. He rushed forward, desperate to rip her apart and drain her dry – and was caught by the knife pinning us to the wall. With an angry growl, he dropped my knife and pulled out hers. Our eyes passed over Skelter, who was dribbling blood out of his mouth despite being incapacitated. Then my Beast turned his attention to Jezebel, murder and soul-eating on his mind.

He leapt forward, landing on top of her, straddling her. "Tables have turned, bitch!" I heard myself scream. Then I stabbed down with the knife, laughing maniacally. I was able to shout a suggestion to my Beast through the haze of frenzy. _Stake her! Take her out before she stops puking up our blood!_ My Beast seemed to think that made sense, and shoved the thick wooden stake right into her blood-soaked chest.

Her convulsions immediately halted, and the fountain of blood slowed to a trickle. Her face was completely red, her eyes wide and terrified. My Beast laughed triumphantly – but in his triumph, he was weakened, for the fear that fed his strength had fled. The hunger, however, remained.

He bared my fangs and prepared to drain Jezebel dry. I screamed from within my mind. _No! Her blood will infect us! You can't do this!_

_**We need blood now! I don't care if its dirty!**_

_Wait! What about Skelter? His blood is good!_

_**Hm... yes... let's drain that asshole dry, then kill this bitch!**_

Diablerizing Skelter was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was just glad I wasn't going to have to deal with some blood disease. My beast dismounted Jezebel and crawled over to Skelter, leering over him. "You shouldn't have been such an asshole to me," I heard him say with my voice, "now you're going to pay!" And with that, he plunged my fangs into his neck.

I felt the ecstasy fill me, felt the overwhelming pleasure of Kindred blood fill me up. This was the first time I had taken Kindred vitae, rather than having it fed to me, and the feeling of absolute power, of having supernatural life energy spark through every synapse, every muscle, was overwhelming. I gave in to my bestial urges, rising on a tide of life, Skelter's life flashing by in a haze.

Mad screaming charges through a dark jungle. Leering eyes in the dark. A man by my side screams as wooden stakes appear out of the ground and impale him, his guts now hanging above his head.

Wanton violence on the streets of the city, people ripped apart to feed the rage of the Beast.

Nines, baptizing him with purpose, pulling him back from the brink of endless frenzy.

He fires a rocket launcher at a police helicopter, while a crowd of cheering rioters goes wild and set a cop car on fire. His rage is channeled, directed into the fight for freedom.

_**Yes, yes, oh god yes, that's it, and that last drop, that last fucking drop will be the greatest pleasure we've ever felt!**_

The Beast's gloating pulled me back from the brink of madness, and I shoved him aside, the hunger that had empowered him now gone. It took every last ounce of willpower to pull my fangs from his neck.

I took in a shuddering breath, blood dripping from my fangs, and it was all I could do to keep from plunging them back into him. I leaned down, shaking from desire, licking up every last drop off his neck, off the floor.

I stood up, shuddering. _God, that was fucked up._ I looked over the two staked Kindred on the ground, and I smiled widely. _So, Skelter, you got this, huh? Idiot. Thank goodness I was here._ I looked over to Jezebel, and hate welled up in me. _We should just kill her now._ Then an implanted compulsion activated and took me over.

I pulled out the syringe Strauss had given me. I calmly, robotically knelt next to her and carefully put the needle in her veins. I filled the container with her black blood, removed the needle, and pocketed my prize.

I came to, confused. _Goddmanit, Strauss... you didn't have to do that, I would have... actually, no, it was the last thing on my mind, but still. Need to avoid looking him in the eye in the future. So... now what? Oh, I guess I should unstake Skelter._

I walked over to him, knelt down and pulled out the stake.

An instant later, I was once again pinned to the wall, this time by Skelter. He held the hand with the stake in it, while his other hand was crushing my neck. "What the fuck," he screamed, "was that shit? You trying to stab me in the back, you traitorous Cam shit?"

My eyes bulged from the pressure. "No!" I barely choked out. "I swear! I was just... I was hungry. I'd frenzied!"

"Then what the fuck," he growled, "was that bullshit about how I shouldn't have pissed you off? You think you're tough shit because you can kick a man while he's down?"

"It... it wasn't me! It was my Beast!"

Skelter spit in my face. "Don't even try to give me that shit. You seemed real fucking calm when you took that bitch's blood. You give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your head off, right here, right now!" I felt his grip tighten, felt death coming on me once again... and I saw Jezebel stand up, behind Skelter.

"Jez... Jeze... she... behi-" I couldn't speak, he was squeezing the air out of me, literally crushing my throat in his hands. Until he suddenly stiffened, then fell over, as Jezebel once again jammed a stake into his back.

I was ready. I'd seen her. I'd already started chanting. She bared her fangs and held her hands like claws, a bloody beast ready to pounce.

A second later, and she was puking blood on Skelter.

I sighed in relief, then pulled the stake out of my partner.

He screamed, blood bursting out of his mouth – but he wasn't incapacitated like her. With a snarl, e grabbed her by the throat, shoved her to the ground, and punched her in the face with sledgehammer force, over and over and over again, like some kind of powerful industrial machine, until he had literally smashed her face in. She burned to ash in his hands.

I sighed in relief. "Thank god that's over."

Skelter looked up, murder in his eyes, sending me scrambling backwards. Far too slow. He moved in a blur, and had me shoved back up against the wall again. "Don't you ever," he growled, "mention god again, you atheistic heretic!" And with that, he bared his fangs and plunged them into my neck.

For the second time that night, I felt the sleepy narcotic pleasure of being fed on fill me, felt the Beast rise within me in terror. I didn't know if he was going to stop or not, but I did know I needed to get him off me and have enough blood in me to avoid frenzy, so I preemptively sent Purge into his blood through his fangs.

For the second time that night, I had blood puked on me. I shoved Skelter back, my Beast on the very verge of taking over, my veins nearly dry, as I rode the edge of frenzy. "Fuck you," I muttered as I grabbed my knife and walked past him. "If not for me you'd be dead, or worse, her blood-bound slave. I took what I needed to stop frenzying. You were going to eat my fucking soul. And you have the gall to claim to be righteous." And with that last comment, I ran out of the blood-soaked room.

I stepped out and saw a security guard standing directly outside in the hallway. He stared in horror at me, and I realized that I looked like I'd just come out of chainsaw massacre movie. He raised his gun at me, shouting, "Freeze!"

I stared him in the eyes and Tranced him. He went limp, and I licked my lips, hunger taking over. I fed from him, finally feeling the overwhelming lust of hunger subside, finally firmly back in control of myself. I pulled my fangs free with him close to drained, but not so empty he'd need major medical care. I gently set him on the ground and licked his wounds closed.

Skelter burst out of the room, growling like an animal. I jumped back from him, holding up my knife and backing away. He eyed me warily, and then saw the man on the ground. He leapt onto him like a wolf jumping onto a wounded deer, his fangs going right for the neck.

I watched him drain the man dry. I watched the life fade out of him. Skelter slowly stood up, blood dripping from his mouth, a look of relief in his eyes that turned to horror.

"Fuck. I fucking killed him." His eyes turned to me, and his aura burned red with rage. "This is all your fault! You sent me into frenzy!"

"Excuse me?" I screamed back at him. "You were the idiot that decided to trust the Plaguebearer. You'd already taken my fucking blood. You weren't in frenzy, you were just weak. Don't blame this on me."

"Who you calling weak, you scrawny little shit? I could snap you in half!"

"I'm sure you could, if you could get near me. Which I'm not going to let happen ever again, not after tonight."

Skelter was baring his teeth at me, "Listen, if you think-"

"Freeze!" More security, and they immediately started shooting.

"Shit!" Skelter cursed, and we both drew our guns and started returning fire down the hall. We backed up slowly. I saw one of the three guards go down, clutching his gut. We reached the fire escape, and alarms started going off as soon as we opened the door. We bolted down the stairs, making it about two storied before guests starting pouring into the stairwell. They stared at our blood-soaked forms in horror. We shoved them out of the way and kept going, rushing out the fire escape at the bottom.

The sirens were already audible. Skelter turned to me, looking for all the world like a blood-soaked muscular behemoth, and scowled. "Good luck dealing with this one, Cam." And with that, he vanished in a blur.

_Shit! I can't believe he just... Gotta get out of here!_ Blood adrenaline kicked in, and I bolted across the street into a nearby alley. I tore off my bloody overcoat, tossing it into a dumpster, before opening up a manhole and descending into the catacombs.

I stalked off into the darkness, once again hungry, once again feeling dead, feeling bitter. I felt betrayed. _I can't trust anyone. Even the smallest dislike can grow out of control in the hands of the Beast and frenzy. Anyone could lose control and stab me in the back. God, I really am alone in this world, aren't I? Distrusted by all, hated by many, and for what? I haven't even done anything to earn this. I've just made mistakes, offended or acted suspiciously without meaning to. I guess it doesn't matter at all if you mean well. What matters is perception. What matters is control – of yourself, of the situation. So I'm done trying to be a part of anything. Any fucking cause. From here on out, I look out for myself._


	34. Chapter 33: Send me an Angel

**So... It's been two weeks, and still no reviews. Either this chapter is waaaay too long, or my loyal readers are resentful that I'm no longer talking with them. So I've decided to take this gap in time to respond to all your reviews, if only so I can get that little ego boost that your reviews are to me.**

**Clockwork The Great: I wouldn't start guessing at the end quite yet – even I am not entirely sure where Lucius is going. Most likely an ending not in cannon at all. As Atrus from Myst said, "The ending has not yet been written." And you are quite right about the typo, I meant to write Hannah, as you will see in this chapter, where she features prominently.**

**Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: I will say this about Christoff. He is immensely powerful. Like, kind of overpowered. His story is interesting, and may get mentioned or brought up, but he is not appearing in my story. Dude is probably off in the Middle East somewhere, carving up Assamites and reliving the crusades. As for the Judas/Dracula thing... I don't think that's in cannon. Dracula forced Lambach Ruthven to embrace him in the 1400s, then when Lambach went crying to his sire, Vlad raised an army, defeated his sire's sire, and Diablerized him. Which is badass, but he definitely wasn't around in the time of Jesus. So... not sure what you're talking about. Regardless, Vlad, tricky as he is, could definitely be defeated by an Antedeluvian, let alone Caine or God. Not sure about Satan, he's kind of a sad lonely figure in the WOD, cast out, lost his powers, and it turns out he's actually trying to help humanity. His demons, however, have become insane torturous madmen due to centuries of imprisonment in the earth. But that's neither here nor there. A piece of advice: You Don't Need To Capitalize Every Word In Your Review.**

**SpecialAgentOrange: If the last three chapters were a volcano erupting, this chapter is a gaping hole left over after the eruption. But I digress. You're quite right to say that any of the factions will be hard-pressed to sell him on the need for the services provided by joining any of them – and he'll have to sell them on the idea that he's more of an asset than a liability. If he ends up with anyone, it will take a lot of relationship repair. Between Dominate and Presence, he's barely in charge of himself any more – and he better start learning how to live with that much manipulation, or figure out ways to counteract it.**

**I do have to snicker a little at your comment about him only having friends among the dead – I mean, almost everyone he knows now doesn't have a pulse, but at lest they've still got a body. Paul is quickly becoming the only one he can trust, the only one he can turn to for help. Aside from his sire, whom he shouldn't trust, but he does. Of course, Serena may realize that Paul represents a threat to her plans, a way for Lucius to be less emotionally dependant. Which isn't to say she'd get rid of Paul – a newly dead spirit is probably as easy to manipulate as a newly dead vampire...**

**Lucius is honestly well on his way to becoming intimately connected with the spirit world, and the temptation to retreat into that, to escape from the danger and the intrigue and manipulation of the real world will be immense – though Lucius should keep in mind, terrible dangers also lurk in the world of the dead...**

**I have to make one comment, about cannon. I'm going to say that Lucius was able to prevent the plague from reaching him due to Purge – he burned the blood that was flowing between him and Jezebel. I didn't intend for him to catch the plague – yet.**

**Rednightmare: I'm so glad you like what I've done with Paul. In many ways, your love of this character helped inspire the new direction I've decided to move in this chapter. Not so much a new direction, as an opportunity to look at things from new perspectives. I plan on going back to a more Lucius-centered focus in future chapters, but I really wanted not only to flesh out Paul, but to introduce a whole new world, with its own strange rules and workings to the readers. Let me know what you think of both the forward and backward shifting in time in terms of narrative structure, and especially let me know what you think about Paul and the shadowy world he inhabits. I'm thinking of making a spinoff story, and your feedback would be greatly appreciated. **

**You're quite right when you say Lucius can't be trusted. He simply doesn't know enough to even know when he's being used as a puppet, which makes him the best kind of puppet. Nines is trying to figure out what strings are there, how to cut some and attach his own, but the rest of them are completely right in their suspicion. Mazoline, however, may just be too tempted by the occult and the chance at seeing her dead ghoul to avoid an obvious danger, even after Skelter warns them all about Lucius. But Strauss is holding the strings right now – save for those held by Serena. The man always came off to me as frighteningly competent. The LA Chantry was there before the Anarchs took over, was there through the free state, and will be around no matter what happens. They are far too useful and far too dangerous for anyone to ever dare to try and mess with them. And now that things have gone to hell with the Anarchs, Strauss would be in the perfect position to move Lucius firmly over to his side, and the side of the Camarilla. Of course, he'd rationalize. That's what weak-willed intelligent people do when they're manipulated, they convince themselves that they are in control, that they chose this.**

**Oh Patty, you foolish, foolish blood-addict. You've pretty much sealed your fate. Of course, making her as obnoxious as possible makes it that much more enjoyable to destroy her. It would take some kind of miracle to keep you from getting the ax, at this point.**

**Skelter always seemed a little close to his Beast to me, and his religious convictions always seemed like a way of keeping the Beast at bay. So naturally, should that faith be used against Skelter, he'd fall prey to the Beast, and fall into Frenzy. So, combine Jezebel's use of religious imagery and appeals to mercy put his guard down, while his anger and distrust of Lucius led to him letting the Beast loose on him. I think the only reason Skelter didn't kill Lucius is twofold – one, he's concerned about what Lu could do with his Blood Magic, which is a huge unknown for him at this point, and also because he's not sure what Nines' reaction would be. But yeah, regardless of the fairness of it all, Skelter is going to make Lucius seem like a backstabbing traitor to the Anarchs. As for what the repercussions of that will be... well, we shall see.**

**And as for Lucius' conviction that he's going to be focused just on himself – it should be obvious by now that he's desperate for a sense of approval and affection. So I think he'll end up running towards whoever can give him a sense of belonging... and that may end up coming from an unexpected source. And that's all I'm going to say, before I spoil anything in this chapter.**

**Life may come first, but Sanity I've long abandoned. :P**

**Enough fan service - here it is, a freaky, frightening introduction proper to the nightmare that is Wraith: the Oblivion. I hope this one give you nightmares for weeks, because it's certainly the product of excessive madness in my life. Here's hoping the catharsis of all this helps me exorcise some nasty spirits of my own.**

**Have fun freaking yourself out!**

…

**...**

Once again I skulked through the subterranean catacombs, once again driven underground, prowling for blood, snarling at any sign of life.

I was hungry enough to consider feeding on rats, but I had just enough blood in me that I couldn't quite stomach it. I needed to get out of here. There was something strange... I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Little wisps of aura that hovered on the corner of my eye, disappearing when I looked at them directly. I felt like I was being watched – and right now, the last thing I needed was more paranoia.

I crawled out of the sewers and emerged in a filthy, dark alley, one end blocked off by rusted chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. A mass of rags and flesh lay asleep on a pile of garbage bags that looked like they'd been dumped directly out of the window of the adjacent building. As I approached, the smell of urine and vomit overwhelmed my senses. I didn't care. I'd had worse. I shoved my fangs into the boil-covered flesh and drank of the sickly-sweet vitae.

I pulled my fangs out almost as soon as they'd entered, my stomach screaming in protest. The life energy of the vitae was somehow warped back into itself, inverted, turned into a decaying energy of death. A bitter, ironic thought passed through my mind. _This must be what it's like to be hit with Purge._ A moment later, I was vomiting blood back up, covering the pile of garbage, rags, and flesh in another layer of organic waste.

I stumbled out of the alley, delirious and hungry, desperate to find good blood anywhere. _I guess the plague is far from cured. _ I realized that I may have nearly died and destroyed my relationship with the Anarchs for nothing – still not safe to feed on the streets, still CDC units in LA. _Why was I even so eager to kill Jezebel, anyway? It seemed urgent, but... fuck it, I need to feed now._

I was so focused on trying to find a victim, that I almost didn't notice the subtle whispering that seemed to be coming from right behind me. I spun around, baring my fangs, expecting trouble. Nothing, not even with Aupex. Looking around suspiciously, I walked out into the streets.

This was not a good neighborhood, and I really didn't want to be here. Dilapidated buildings advertised urban blight with broken glass and boarded up doors. Shadowy figures peered out suspiciously from some of the abandoned apartments, and I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before the eyes that peered out of the shadows looked not with mortal fear, but the inhuman glee of a Sabbat freak. I walked faster and eyed every shadow, looking for that telltale dark aura of the damned. And that whispering – more and more insistent, seeming to come from everywhere. _As though I wasn't paranoid enough already._

Things started to get a little better – tenements started having actual doors and windows, and the trash was confined to the alleys. I saw bright lights ahead, heard laughter, and quickly walked towards the signs of life.

I stood at the edge of a pool of light being beamed down from one of the few working streetlights, an island of illumination in a sea of darkness. I saw a crowd of twenty-somethings standing around outside, most dressed in torn clothing and covered in tattoos. I approached eagerly, desperate for blood and human contact.

I immediately realized that I stood out like a sore thumb with my suit, and should have probably hung back. I was getting sidelong looks from the crowd. _I'm too overdressed, too old, and-_

"What do you want, bum?" A young woman with pistols tattooed on her hips, pointing towards her crotch, asked me.

_Bum?_ I looked down at myself, and realized that my suit had been cut up, giving my once elegant outfit the appearance of something I'd been living in for years. I switched gear, realizing that I was going to have to convince this crowd I had any class.

"I, uh, was just trying to get a cigarette. I can pay," I quickly added, pulling out a dollar.

The woman rolled her eyes and handed me a white cylinder. "It's cool. Just don't stand too close to me. When's the last time you took a shower?"

As I lit the cig, I smelled myself for the first time – a mixture of sewage and gore. I inhaled the familiar substance, but it barely took the edge off the hunger – I needed blood soon, or I was risking frenzy. I could already feel the Beast rising up, heard his voice saying _**Just use Purge, drink from them, they'll never realize what happened.**_

_No, that's too much of a risk to the Masquerade... to say nothing of what I'd end up doing to these poor mortal kids' bodies. There's a better way. _I refocused on the conversation to distract myself from my hunger. "Hey, you try running through the sewers, see how you smell."

"What," some kid with more metal than flesh on his face laughed at me, "you live down there or something?"

I glared at him, not needing this interruption, very aware that every moment brought me closer to openly feeding, to losing myself. "No, I had to run from the cops, actually."

The kid snorted derisively. "Yeah, sure, I'm real impressed badass. What, they catch you pissing in public or something?"

I took another deep breath of the smoke to calm myself, to push the Beast back within. I could barely focus. I tried to pick a target, try to engage in conversation, but I was so hungry I could barely concentrate. The only reason my fangs weren't already bared was because my mouth was busy sucking on a cigarette, and I knew as soon as it was done so was I. And that whispering – more and more insistent, but just too quiet to make out, blending into the conversation around me. I looked around suspiciously, trying to see the source of the voice, trying to figure out if I was going insane, trying-

In a flash, Paul appeared directly in front of me, glowing and translucent. His form fraying at the edges, seeming to float in the wind like bits of torn cloth. His features were obscured, and I could barely identify him – but there was no question. It was Paul.

He floated about half a foot off the ground, and he stared at me, pleading desperation in his eyes. I just stared back, agape, no idea what to make of this. _What the fuck is he doing? How is this happening?_

It was the woman who noticed first, screaming "What the fuck?" at top volume. In a few seconds, everyone was staring, silent, awed, confused, and terrified.

Paul opened his mouth wide in what looked like a scream, but only a whisper issued forth. But in the silence that resulted from his appearance, his words rang out loud and clear. "Lucius! You have to save Hannah! She's dying! Help!"

"I... what? What the fuck do you expect me to do? I already killed Jezebel, I thought that was supposed to cure her or something. I risked my life to try and help you! Because of you, the Anarchs want me dead now! Leave me alone, you needy leech!"

As I finished my rant, the deafening silence surrounding me made me realize that everyone was staring at us. Many were slowly backing away, torn between the urge to bolt and the urge to stare. The girl who'd handed me the cigarette, however, was walking towards us, staring at Paul with rapt eyes. "No way," she muttered to herself. "I knew it! I knew they were real!"

And in that moment, I lost myself. _**She's distracted. You've got her. The Masquerade has already been ripped to shreds. May as well get a meal out of it.**_ And with that last bestial thought, I pounced.

She was on the ground and my fangs were in her before she had a chance to even realize what was happening. The relief, the satisfaction, the raw physical pleasure swept me away, and I was lost on that old familiar stream of joy and Patricia's memories.

.-.

I saw a child, huddled under the bed, terrified as the spectral figure of an old woman hovered in the closet, staring with sunken eyes, hissing furious whispers, ranting about how unfair it was, how this child was allowed so much joy when she had been denied happiness her whole life. And in a flash, she felt whole room seem to warp, felt everything turn frosty as the specter approached. The poor girl huddled deeper under her bed, desperate to escape. She shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the horrible abomination. She felt the cold turn turn bitterly sharp, so cold it she felt certain her lungs would freeze upon inhalation. And then a voice spoke from right next to her ear.

"You can't escape. I'm already a part of you."

Her eyes bolted open, and there the old woman was right in front of her. A moment later, she felt the icy cold apparition pass inside her as maniacal laughter seemed to echo inside her head.

Stern parents, refusing to believe her "childish fantasies."

Stern teachers, who wouldn't believe her when she said she didn't decide to hit that boy, to trip the principal, that her body had acted on its own, as though possessed...

And then worried councilors referred her to cold therapists, who assigned her to a horrid institution, where they hooked her up to nightmarish machines that sent terrible shocks coursing through her body, ravaging her mind, breaking her spirit until she was an empty shell. And in that empty shell, the spirit took more and more control, shoving the original consciousness aside, until she was little more than a helpless observer to her own actions. Most of the time, she just sat, catatonic, but when the spirit wanted to feel alive again, she would speak with a strange voice that was a hybrid of the girl's and an old woman's, she would lash out with a will that was not her own. With a glare, this strange girl could freeze the room or catch the breath in your throat, and the staff came to fear and hate her, throwing her into solitary, locking her away from themselves. And anyone that fell asleep near her would find a strange old woman screaming at them from inside their dreams. She was trapped and alone, utterly abandoned by family and the system. Until...

The priest entered the confinement room. She never found out who called him in, who still believed in the old spiritual truths. All she knew was that he radiated a strange light, and the ghost was immediately afraid. It lashed out at him. He calmly held out his palm, and light shone forth that sent her puppeteer to the ground in agony. He held a hand to the heavens, and another to the earth. His right hand, the heavenward one, glowed with a light so bright it seemed to be beyond white, and the left hand was consumed by a darkness so deep it seemed to be beyond black. With his right hand, he reached towards the girl, bathing her in light, muttering prayers in Latin. In desperation, the spirit lashed out with Patricia's nails. He ignored the pain, and simply shouted. "Begone, restless spirit. I banish you to hell, for you have earned damnation for your sins!" He placed his hand on her head, and the spirit screamed in utter agony. The light reached into her soul, constricting her tormentor. He pulled his hand away, and he held the wraith in his fist. He seemed to throw the darkness in his left hand onto the floor, and a portal opened, seeming to suck the dim light of the single fluorescent bulb into it. With a scream, he hurled the specter into the gaping maw of oblivion. And with that, she was set free.

He left without at word, and the staff took the story as simply another delusion. She came to see it, and all memories of the spirit, as products of a broken mind. No longer tormented, she improved, though it took a very long time. By the time she was released, the girl was a woman, a woman who wanted nothing to do with her family or the house that had such horrible memories. So she went out onto the streets, partying, fighting, living a wild life. Because she was tough, tough as nails after what she'd gone through, and the struggles of life seemed like a simple game compared to her childhood.

.-.

I was so fascinated, so amazed by her story, that I nearly failed to notice that her life was ebbing away, that she was at death's door. Terrified of destroying another life, another soul, I pulled my fangs out and licked her wounds quickly closed, fully satisfied and in control. I stood up, shaking, trying to remember where I was or what I'd been doing.

The glowing figure of Paul slammed me back into a reality that was a little too like the dream I'd just been in. He was desperately ranting at me, so fast I could barely understand him.

"-got to hurry she's almost dead you have to do something! I don't know what I'd do if she died, my whole afterlife has been trying to keep her alive, you have to, you fucking have to!"

Everyone had fled, except for the man who'd been insulting me earlier, who pulled out a gun and started screaming threateningly. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but you just fucked Patricia up, and I want some answers, motherfucker!"

I stared into his eyes and Tranced him, removing the annoyance. I turned back to Paul. "Calm down!" I growled at him. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Feed her your blood!" He was hysterical, his voice shrill and desperate. "It's the only way! You have to make her into your ghoul!"

I sighed. "I don't know if I want to deal with that kind of responsibility. I mean, look at Patty. Do I really want another blood-addict?"

"You cold-hearted fucker!" That one came out as a full-throated scream. "It doesn't matter what you want to do! She's going to die! How can you just let that happen?"

That hit deep. _What's happened to me? When I was in the hospital, I fed my blood to some random person without a second thought, just to save them. And that act saved me, kept me from succumbing to depression and the Beast when I was at my lowest after killing Sherry. And now... I'm so paranoid, so caught up in my own problems, I've become a heartless corpse._ "All right, all right, you have a point. I'll help her."

I could see the relief and gratitude radiate out into his aura. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I don't-" And then he arched back and pierced the night with a blood-curdling scream.

"What?" I cried. "What's wrong?"

"She's dead! She's fucking dead! It's too late! I can feel her life torn away, feel it tearing me apart inside! Oh god, oh god, there's no reason to exist, he was right, he was fucking right, there was no point, there was nothing I could do, oh god oh god why?"

I wasn't sure what to do, how to console a grieving spirit. "Look, you did the best you could, I mean-"

"Aaaaah!" A dark hole opened up under Paul, full of unlight, like the one the priest had hurled the spirit into in Patricia's memory. "What the fuck is this?" He started sinking into the hole, desperately struggling to free himself. But his struggles were useless, and only seemed to pull him down faster. "Help me! I'm sinking, I can't stop this, help me Lucius!" He reached a hand out to me. I tried to grab it, but my hand passed right through his. I watched, helpless, as he sank deeper and deeper into the ground. He tried to hold himself out of it with his arms, but something was pulling him down, something stronger than him. "Please, please, no... Lucius, Lucius, I don't know what's happening, or if I'm going to see you again, but please, go find Hannah. Make sure her spirit is ok. I may be gone, but maybe you can help her. Please..." And with that last plea, he sank into the darkness, and the hole closed.

I stared, horrified by what I'd seen, the silence deafening me with its weight. _My god, is there some death beyond death? Is his soul gone?_ The silence was broken by the sound of distant sirens, followed a moment later by a gunshot.

I turned to the man who'd shot me, the man I'd Tranced earlier. He kept firing at me. I walked up to him, calmly, as his eyes widened in fear. I grabbed his hand and squeezed with all my superhuman strength. He cried out and dropped the weapon. I pulled him close and fed. Sure, I didn't need to, but I wanted to, and I figured it would keep him from making trouble for awhile.

Turning around, I saw Patricia, lying on the ground, nearly dead. A twinge of compassion jolted through me, as I realized that if she started talking about ghosts, she'd end up back in the asylum. I walked over to her and knelt down. I pulled her eyes open and stared into them. "Listen to me. Don't tell anyone in the hospital you saw a ghost or anything unusual. You don't deserve to end up back in an institution. Tell them you fainted." I wasn't sure if that would work, but I'd tried.

The sirens were getting closer. Time to go. Time to see if I could do anything for Hannah. I fled from the island of light, from the life inside it I'd stolen. I fled into the darkness, an undead creature seeking after the dying and the restless dead.

…

Paul fell through the air in utter darkness, existing in a pure void. But he could feel. He could feel searing pain, as what seemed to be sharp shards of glass whipped through him at bullet speeds. Most of the time, physical objects passed through him like they were barely there – or rather, like he was. It would hurt a little when a car hit him, when he discorporated, but no more than a bad bruise. He'd been through worse. But this... this felt so real, so solid. It tore away at his body – _no, my corpus_, Paul recalled, remembering the word the old ghost had used to describe the ghostly form. He felt like he was being torn apart in both body and soul. For even as his corpus was torn to shreds, his spirit was being ripped apart by that voice, that wretched voice from within his head that the old one had called his Shadow.

_**You really thought you could save her? You thought you had a chance? Well look who managed to fuck everything up, mister hero! Hannah died, despite all your efforts. You haven't even made a dent in the plague. Nothing's changed. The undead beasts you turned to for help just slaughtered and fed, driven by their frenzy and hunger. Everything you did was for nothing.**_

Every word hit worse than the razor-sharp glass hailstones. His inadequacy, his helplessness, tore down every hope, every drive that had kept him going since he'd died _Maybe he's right, maybe there's no point to this existence... all I can do is watch, helplessly, as events unfold around me. God, I wanted to make a difference so badly, to change things for the better, to uncover the truth..._

_**Ha! You failed at that utterly in life! What made you think you could make any difference while you were dead?**_

And Paul simply curled up into the fetal position, still hurling in the air, feeling like he was dissolving into nothingness, like he would soon be stripped away. But a small thought pulled itself out of the corner of his mind. _I did make a difference, that one time-_

He smashed into the ground at terminal velocity, snapping himself in two, breaking everything, feeling like his insides were a jumbled, broken mess. The physical agony was like nothing he'd experienced in this life, or the last... except for that one time... the time he'd made a difference...

.-. .-.

Paul recalled his old idealistic self, the way that back in college, he'd been incensed by all the injustice, the inequality, the corruption endemic to the system. He'd been involved in street protests, anti-war movements, third party signature drives, the whole nine yards. He'd decided to pursue journalism after a few years of aimless activism on his parents' dime, deciding that he was going to "uncover the truth" and bring those in power to justice, just like Woodward and Bernstein.

The reality of journalism had been a soul-crushing dullness, pointless assignment after pointless assignment. He realized, far more quickly than his colleages, that the point of these assignments wasn't to give the new staff experience at investigative journalism, not to test one's abilities. It was to see who was willing to put up with the most shit, who would dance to whatever tune was played for them – in other words, to see who would be the most obedient to senior staff. He could jump through the hoops, sure, but the pointlessness of it all was driving him insane.

So he started looking for his own assignments. Paul realized that complaining about the dullness of the workload would only lead to more of the same bullshit, not more challenging assignments. So he kept his mouth shut, kept his head low, and kept his workload light. And in his free time at night, he stalked the street, looking for leads.

It was almost completely fruitless. But there were little diamonds in the rough, little personal stories or exposes just waiting to be uncovered. All you had to do was talk to people, ask them questions about their lives, about the issues of the day, to get new perspectives, personal interest stories. He'd compile his notes as professionally as possible and review them. When he thought he had something worthwhile, he'd submit a thoroughly-edited, small article to his supervisors. If anyone asked, he'd just say he'd stumbled on something while on assignment. It was almost never printed, but occasionally there would be a little extra room in the corner of the metro section, and he'd get some real print time.

The first time his own article had actually been printed, it was the most exhilarating feeling – knowing that in his own small way, he'd made a small difference, telling the compelling story of someone personally affected by the cold, uncaring economic policies of the mayor. It could have stayed that way, just a time-consuming hobby that got him a little extra space in the paper. But then he'd stumbled on something big.

Paul had been hanging out at this local dive bar, back in 2001. He'd started up a conversation with some of the patrons, scoping out opinions on the latest effort to clean up downtown. This time, the mayor was trying to look tough, and forcibly removing all the homeless and the prostitutes from the shiny business district. An absolute zero-tolerance policy was in effect, and the overbearing police presence downtown was the talk of the town.

"I think it makes sense," an older man in a grey suit with a bushy grey mustache and brandy on his breath commented. "I mean, I think it will attract more tourists, honestly. It's good for business."

"Right, because tourists come to LA for the good clean family fun." One of his business partners, a young man with a light purple shirt and a black suit jacket replied. "You make this place look too squeaky clean, you'll kill the party that LA has to sell the world."

"Look," a crusty old regular at the end of the bar added, "I can understand clearing the bums out. Happens all the time. But why the hookers? I mean, really, if they act too trashy, the classy broads will kick them out of downtown themselves. They've been at this game forever. Why fuck with a good thing?"

And so the debate went. Paul personally found it reprehensible that humans could be shoved off the streets just to make money or make the rich more comfortable. He seethed, knowing most people didn't care. And so it would have gone, the same debate, with Paul sitting back, smiling, recording, seething beneath the surface. Until the figure in the grey trenchcoat at the end of the bar who'd been quietly nursing his drink all night threw in words that would haunt Paul until the day he died – and beyond.

"It's funny, you know, the way idiots always think they have such a good handle on what's going on. The ignorant are so desperate to believe they understand the world, they'll handle any line of crap, as long as it's even vaguely believable."

The crusty regular looked up from his conversation to hurl a retort at the man. "Oh, and I suppose you know all the answers, huh?" Turning back to the two businessmen, he reassured them, "Don't mind him, he's just a crazy conspiracy theorist. He's always talking about 'what's really going on' and how ignorant we all are. When he got real drunk one night, I overheard him rambling about how vampires actually control the whole world!" The two businessmen laughed uproariously, and the old fart laughed along with them, glad to be included. Paul ignored them all, since they were all expressing opinions on the issue that he'd heard before. He was always after something unique, something different – so many people saw the world through the same lens, it was easy to get jaded. Variety was the spice of life, after all.

So he sat down next to the man and asked him, "What's really going on, then? I'm interested, even if they aren't."

The man, his face hidden in shadows, snorted derisively. "Why, so you can mock me too? That little shit doesn't know how lucky he is. He's been told so much secret truth, so much he should have been killed for, and all he does is laugh."

Paul figured this was just some lunatic, but what the hell, at least he'd have a unique outlook on this. "Forget about him. I'm really interested. I'm a reporter. A low-level, underpaid one, too. So if there's even a chance what you're saying is true, trust me, I'll believe it, even try to publish it. You'd like the truth to get out, right?"

He turned to Paul, wide-eyed, and got in his face. He saw the man's face in clear light for the first time, a pointed chin covered in days-old stubble, a sharp crooked nose casting a shadow over thin lips, all of which was overshadowed by huge, dark, bloodshot eyes. "Don't you fucking dare! Do you know what they'd do to me if they found out I was responsible for a leak? They'd... well, long story short, we'd both be dead. Trust me kid, your skepticism is your best defense." With that, he turned back to the drink he'd been nursing.

Paul was intrigued. Most paranoid delusionals were more than eager to share their beliefs, to tell their bizarre stories. Why was this one so reluctant? He didn't play to type. Paul had to know more. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but give me a clue. I mean, you can't get in trouble if I investigate and find things one my own, right? I mean, do you work for whoever is running things? And why do they care about downtown's image so much? What, is their master plan to make the businessmen more comfortable or something?"

The mystery man chuckled. "You know what, you're right, as long as I don't directly tell you what's going on, I'm in no trouble. Not that you'd figure it out if it wasn't dangled right in front of you. I mean, seriously, how does an investigative reporter not know what's going on? Have you even gone and interviewed the bums and whores downtown?"

Paul shook his head. "I mean, they've been cleared out, right? There's none left."

The mystery man snorted derisively. "They're still there. I don't know about the whores, but the bums are still around, just hidden. You have to look beyond the surface, go digging in the darkness, in the alleys, in the places you yuppies don't like to go because it might get your shoes dirty. Why, you might even have to go wandering outside of nice, clean downtown, in the dirtier, scarier parts of the city! Try the edge of the center, in the areas where the cops wouldn't bother cracking down – yet. Because this is just the beginning. It's going to spread. When it works – and it will, mark my words – they'll insist that this is justification for a city-wide program."

Paul shuddered. "God, I hope not. Carting people around like cattle from one part of the city to another is bad enough – treating them like vermin and trying to wipe them out is nightmarish."

The man threw his head back and laughed. "Kid, if you think that the plan they're feeding the public is nightmarish, you've obviously never had a bad dream in your life. Go and talk to the people being snatched off the streets – they're scared, and with good reason. Keep asking questions, and you'll find a truth that makes your worst nightmares seem like the brightest fantasies. And that's all you're getting from me." And with that, he downed his drink, threw a fifty on the bar, and walked out.

Paul almost dismissed him... almost. But there was something about the challenge he'd presented him, demanding that he investigate the situation himself, that nagged him at the back of his mind. _Why haven't I considered interviewing the people most affected by this story? Hell, at the very least, I might find a decent human interest story, a unique perspective on the whole thing._

So next weekend, he found himself downtown, looking for people who legally weren't supposed to be there any longer. At first all he could find were men in business suits leaving towering glass office buildings after a late day at work, overdressed yuppie clubgoers, all watched over by gothic gargoyles and sentinel-like policemen who watched stoically from behind reflective aviator sunglasses. It was all quite intimidating, not to mention frustrating and pointless. He was exhausted after hours of fruitless searching.

But Paul was too stubborn to give up. He kept moving further and further from downtown, moving in an expanding spiral pattern. He finally reached a part of town not saturated with the dark sentinels wearing shiny badges. It was a relief to be in a part of town that didn't feel like a police state, but he still couldn't find anyone that fit the description of the demographics he was searching for. With a bitter sigh, he decided to relax. He ducked into a nearby alley and lit himself the joint he'd rolled before heading out that night – he couldn't do that on the streets of downtown LA, not with that many cops around, made him too nervous. As he took his first deep hit, he thought about his life. _I could be out partying right now. I could be at home watching TV. I could be doing anything else. Why am I wasting time trying to find people that aren't even here? And what difference will it make if I even find them? God, I'm still trying to fight that old crusade. As though I'd change anything. What, am I going to expose that the cops are treating people a little rough when they forcibly remove them like vermin? The people of this city already approve of the dehumanization of the downtrodden – I'm not going to change that. Fucking waste of my time. Waste of my life._

"Hey, is that what I think it is?" Paul jumped at the sound of the voice, terrified that he was in trouble. To his relief, he found not a cop, but a cute girl with bright auburn hair that went down to her shoulders, deep red lipstick that covered thick, pouty lips, dark blue eyeshadow that framed deep blue eyes, and a simply gorgeous body, thin but not stick thin like all the models these days, with nice hips that her short blue skirt showed off nicely, and a tank top that showed off perky breasts that just drew your eyes irresistibly, setting your imagination on fire, and- "Hello? Eyes up here, babe. Not that I mind you staring. But, uh, can I get a hit of that?"

Paul laughed nervously, relieved that he wasn't getting busted. "Yeah, sure." He passed his joint over and watched the girl lean oh so casually against the wall, laughter in her eyes, the glowing ember casting her face in an amber light. The smoke drifted slowly up into the streetlight, dancing in the air in infinitely intricate swirls, and Paul couldn't help but lean back up against the other side of alley, relaxing and grinning at the absurdity of the beautiful spectacle in front of him. The grin became a giggle, and the girl looked over at him.

"What's so funny?"

Paul's face turned red. It was funny – in any other situation, he was so confident, so calm and collected and cool, but put him alone in front of a cute girl, and... "I, uh, I mean, it's just, I've been trying to find someone to talk to all night, and now, when I start to give up and take a break, I run into someone."

"Hmph." The enchanting woman uttered a single chuckle before hitting the joint again. She leaned forward, out of the light, but somehow she was even more beautiful in the shadows as she leaned over to pass the joint back to him, her face becoming a mask of seductive mystery, while giving him a nice view of her cleavage that...

_God, get a hold of yourself. You're on a mission, remember? And hey, I wonder if she... I mean, it's a mean thing to think, but she's kind of dressed like... oh, fuck it, just take a hit._ He took her gift and inhaled, feeling the fuzziness enter his brain as he held in the smoke, relaxing him, melting away his nervousness. The woman's voice was a serenade that sent him into a relaxed state, drifting away on a haze of sweet tones and sweeter words. "All you've been looking for was someone to talk to? Everyone has a story they want to tell. I've got better stories than anyone on these streets – and I can speak in languages you never knew existed. I can speak volumes with a gesture, and take you to another world with a caress. Why don't you let me write a novel for you – I charge more than most authors, but trust me, you'll enjoy this more than any book."

Paul exhaled, my mind swimming and delighted. He could see where she was going, and he wasn't interested in going there – _but still, nice prose!_ He steadfastly refused to hire a prostitute – at least for his first time. There was nothing more degrading than the thought of losing his virginity to a whore. Yeah, he was almost twenty-seven, and he had no idea why he had gone so long without crossing that barrier – he thought of himself as charming, likable, and he was in decent physical shape – but somehow, he'd just never clicked with the right girl. He had no particular reservations about sex – except for the fact that, at this point, he figured he may as well save himself up for someone special. He'd waited this long, after all...

He passed the joint back and replied to her. "Funny story, I've been looking for someone of your... profession. And I do, in fact, just want to talk. Don't worry, I'll pay for your time. But I really need an interview. I'm a reporter."

She gave him a bemused look, and passed the joint back. "You always get high on the job?"

"When I can get away with it," Paul shot back as he took another hit.

She giggled at him, obviously amused. "Okay, well, Mr. reporter, what kind of, um, profession, do you think I'm in?"

Paul, not wanting to waste the smoke, just uttered a single word before inhaling further. "Prostitute."

She feigned surprise, but it was obviously not meant to fool anyone. "How dare you! I resent the implications! I am a completely respectable street-walker, thank you very much! There's a hierarchy here, you know. I'm definitely a level above the common prostitute. And my time costs fifty dollars, no matter how you want to converse with me."

Paul pulled out a fifty and passed it over with the joint. She put the fifty in her cleavage and took the joint, asking him before inhaling, "So what do you want to know?"

Paul had trouble concentrating – the way she was so casual about everything, so cool and in control, had him thinking about using her time for something else, maybe taking her back to his place... _No! I have to help the people on the streets, tell their story. _"Um, well, I, uh, didn't know there were ranks among, the, uh, ladies of the night." _You sound like an idiot._ "And, I really need to know about the whole situation downtown. I'm trying to get a story on the whole crackdown from the perspective of the people affected."

She rolled her eyes at him, passing the nearly-spent roach back. There was just enough left for Paul to finish it while she told her story. "Funny, you should ask about who's above who, because that's exactly what's been cut in half by this bullshit. See, you've got the whores – the new girls that don't even know how to talk to a John, the desperate junkies, and the burnt-out old-timers. They're basically shoved out to the bad areas. They bring in decent money, they get to become prostitutes. Got some class, got enough money to get a decent outfit, but not exactly hot stuff, you know? Now, I'm a street-walker, meaning I'm not just sitting on a corner, waiting for a John to come up to me. I move around, make conversation, go into clubs, make connections, try and score free drinks, get to know guys with money, maybe find a sugar daddy – I'm a free agent. Now, classy street-walkers like me used to be the life of LA. Like, we weren't obvious or anything, but if you wanted to have a good time, well, there we were. But this whole crackdown has gotten super over the top. At first, we figured they'd just be clearing out any lowlifes that came to downtown, and we were all like, 'about damn time!' But then, we realized that they were super serious – hell, I've even watched them grab a drunk party girl who was just acting like a slut. Slut, by the way, isn't a rank – it's just a way for a person to behave, whether they make money on it or not. So now, we're all running scared. The only girls that can operate downtown are the ones lucky enough to have made money to get their own place and place their own ads – the call-girls and escorts, basically. Problem is, street-walkers are kind of stuck right now. We can't really operate in the run-down areas, we need classy places and guys with money, but now we can't work downtown. I mean, there's always Hollywood, but there's so much competition there, you have to spend a fortune on jewelery and clothes just to have a chance, to say nothing of all the cover charges to get into the clubs. I've been thinking about trying it, but I need money first. So thanks, again, for helping a girl out. Um... got any questions?"

Paul threw away the roach and tried to process everything. "So, um, if I understand this right, what you're saying is that this is destroying the social mobility of the, er, ladies of the night – that basically you're all being segregated into the high-class and the low-class girls."

"Right! See, you get it. Street-walking was like, the, uh, the middle-class option. It was how you went from a broke girl with nothing but her assets, trying to hustle on a street corner, to a beautiful model running an escort service out of her apartment downtown. Yeah, some girls started out having some money and got a head start, but we can't all be that lucky, you know? Used to be you could work your way to the top. But the whole system is fucked now."

Paul rolled his eyes. "And so American social mobility is dealt yet another blow."

"It's so stupid! It's not like we let skanky girls just sell themselves on street corners downtown – we know that was bad for business, that the rich guys liked a certain type of girl, you know? That's why this doesn't even make sense – this isn't even good for the rich guys! I mean, I guess they can still call an escort, but they're so expensive!"

"Right... now there are only girls for the executive, not his assistant."

She laughed, bright and clear, the laughter echoing off the alley in the most pleasant way. "You're clever. More importantly, you get it. The whole thing makes no sense. The worst part about it is, they keep the people they roll up for so long. Like, my friend, Joanna, got scooped up two weeks ago. Still haven't heard from her. Starting to give up hope. I mean, I know they'll release her eventually, but I'm getting worried, you know?"

Paul started, genuinely concerned to hear this. "Yeah, they're not supposed to detain anyone over a day or two."

The street-walker snorted derisively, her pleasant demeanor gone, revealing a deep bitterness. "Like the cops give a fuck. Like anyone cares. We're just another problem to be dealt with."

"I care," Paul replied, letting his guard down and his compassion shine through.

The tragic vixen smiled and looked over at him with sadness and desperate hope in her eyes. "I hope you aren't lying. It's good to know compassion is still alive in the world. Sometimes, I feel like all the humans have been replaced with like... I dunno, robots or zombies or something, and I'm one of the last ones they haven't snatched up and replaced."

Paul nodded, adding, "I know the feeling. Sometimes I can't help but wonder what the world's coming to. That's what I try and do, you know? Wake people up. Help them see that they're destroying themselves and the world with their apathy and greed and hate. I can't do much, but I try."

Her eyes fell to the ground, a deep sadness in there. "That's more than most people do. Thanks" She looked back up at me with genuine gratitude. It was a touching moment, one that was ruined by the first few drops of rain. "Oh, shit. It's been threatening to storm all night. This is gonna be bad."

"Where do you live?" Paul asked.

"South of here, in friggin' Inglewood."

"Tell you what. Let me pay for your cab fare. In return... just tell me where I can find more displaced street-walkers, yeah?"

"Yeah, no problem. The whole area from Beverly Hills on down to downtown is really being watched right now, but north of here, near the La Brea Tar pits? That whole tourist trap on the way to Hollywood? It's where we rejected street-walkers are congregating. Not quite rich or pretty enough to get into Hollywood, not quite brave enough to try sneaking back into LA – too many of us have been disappearing lately. Still, glad I decided to prowl around the edges. C'mon, let's get out of the rain before I get wet. In a bad way, that is..."

Paul blushed, and led her by the hand out into the street. He felt a profound pity for her, a desire to protect her. She was smart, and deserved better than to be treated like human vermin. It filled his heart with a burning desire to show the world what a good person she was, how completely monstrous their dehumanization of her and anyone like her was. He was filled with a new sense of purpose, a new fiery crusade to pursue. He wouldn't rest until he had a real story to show to his publishers, one so well written they couldn't reject it, no matter how much it might upset their rich advertisers.

Paul hailed a cab and opened the door for the woman, before stepping inside himself. He had the cabbie take him back to his apartment complex first, since it was so close.

"Nice spot. Good location, not too far from downtown. If only..." she sighed, probably dreaming of becoming one of the upper class girls.

"Thanks. It's pretty affordable, considering how close it is to the center of things."

"Hey, I uh... are you sure you don't want me to come up with you? I mean... it's winter, it can get awfully cold, even in LA... and I mean, you're genuinely sweet. I wouldn't even charge you any more for my time. You're actually one of the few guys I've run into on the street that I'd want to hang out with. I'm not just saying that, really."

Paul blushed again, his eyes turning to the floor, embarrassed. "I, uh, I don't know what to say. Thanks, I guess. But, uh, I hope you're not offended or anything, I just don't, I just don't do that kind of thing, with, uh, you know, girls of your profession."

She snorted derisively. "What, you're too good for that sort of thing?"

"No, nothing like that!" Paul immediately countered. "It's just... I only want to do that with someone really special to me, you know?"

She just shook her head, looking at him incredulously. "You know, you're really too nice for this world. Especially this city. Can I at least get your name, white knight?"

Paul rolled his eyes, trying to hid his embarrassment. "Paul. What about yours, damsel in distress?"

The enchanting woman tittered at his response. "Hannah. I hope I see you again, Paul." And with that, she was gone.

Paul spent the next few weeks around the areas Hannah suggested, interviewing girls and the homeless population, and the story he found everywhere was the same – everyone was scared, and those they knew who had been rounded up were gone – couldn't be reached, never released, and the fear was growing.

Paul was getting freaked out as he realized this was far worse than he originally imagined, but when under stress he had always buckled down and became more determined. He kept compiling more and more files, complete with pictures and contact info so he could keep tabs on people, making sure he had as much evidence as possible. When the Mayor started bragging about how successful his program was, how much it would benefit the rest of the city, that Paul knew he had to act. He had so many interviews, so many names and faces – he could make this become human to people, change the whole nature of the political conversation. And if he could prove abuse and legal violations on the part of the police, that would blow this wide open.

_But I need proof!_ Paul had compiled an article, done everything in his power to make it as compelling as possible – but he knew that if he couldn't back up the accusations, it would flop, and no one would really care without a juicy scandal. He'd been at this almost all week, barely putting any time into his normal assignments – what did that kind of drivel even matter, when he could be changing the world! He was so focused, he barely interacted with his coworkers – and so almost missed out on the key piece of the puzzle.

He stood around the coffee machine, taking a break, hoping another burst of caffeine would help him figure out how to pin this on the local police force. Larry, an old-timer who mostly covered street crimes, came over, looking sunken-eyed and tired, as always. He noticed Paul and said, "Hey there. Another late night at the office?"

It was about 7pm on a Friday. Paul and Larry were the only two left at the office, except for the head editor and his secretary, who were in his office... reviewing the front page, she'd said. They'd been at it about an hour. Paul pulled himself out of his reflection, focusing on the here and now. "Yeah. I'm doing a piece on the whole crackdown downtown, been interviewing the prostitutes and homeless population. Human interest story, with a twist."

"Hmph. Good luck with that. Everyone's talking about it, gonna be hard to avoid getting drowned out in the background noise. That reminds me. Don't spread this around too much, but I'm starting to think there's some kind of Jack the Ripper ripoff going around or something. See, there's been a spike in missing persons reports, mostly among, er, ladies of the evening. I'm looking at patterns, and-"

Paul's eyes went wide, as his brain made the connection. "You mind if I look these over with you?"

"What? The patterns?"

"Yeah. The missing persons reports, everything. How are the police responding?"

Larry cocked his head, thinking. Paul could tell he was glad to have someone take an interest in his work – he'd been doing a thankless job for some time. "Even more apathetic than usual, especially considering we're dealing with a serial killer. Thing is, no bodies have been found, meaning that we're dealing with someone good at covering their tracks. But yeah, c'mon over to my desk, I'll show you what I've got so far."

Paul read the reports with growing horror. He knew these people. These were the names of the friends of those he'd spoken to, and some of them... even the ones he'd met. He scanned through, hoping against hope she wasn't there... and there was Hannah, another missing persons report, another statistic. _No! They got her!_ Paul fell into a chair, head in hands.

Larry put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "What's wrong, son? There's more to this than just professional curiosity. Talk to me. What's going on?"

Paul sighed, collecting his thoughts. _May as well come out and tell him._ "Look, for the last few weeks, I've been independently investigating things downtown, talking to the people targeted by the crackdowns. They've been saying that anyone grabbed by the police just get disappeared. A lot of the names overlap. I'm even seeing some of the people I've interviewed. I've got names and pictures to confirm this. I'm telling you, something really, really sick is going on here. I think that the mayor was being literal when he spoke about 'scrubbing the city clean.' He sees these people as human trash, and-"

"Is that so?" the voice of the head editor boomed from behind Paul. Paul swirled around, face to face with the giant man. Despite his age, which was well into his late fifties, he was in amazing shape. You could see his large muscles from under his work shirt, which was currently loose and disheveled. His face was hard and angular, covered in scars from his time in Vietnam, and it was all framed by his salt and pepper mustache, looking for all the world like something taken out of a time capsule from the seventies. "Paul, why don't you come see me in my office?" He turned around to face his secretary, a hot young blonde bombshell with the IQ of a stapler, who was standing at attention behind him. "You can go home. Drive safe." His plaything scuttled off as he stomped towards the office, his footsteps booming like an elephant. Paul looked at Larry, who nodded to him to follow.

Paul was actually elated. Here was his chance to pitch this story to the man. _Yeah, he's an uptight asshole who thinks the Mayor is a saint for what he's dong, but this is too much, I have proof, solid proof, right here, and-_

The editor, Michael, shut his office door behind Paul as he entered. He slowly circled Paul, making his way over to his desk while glaring him down the whole time. He sat in his old-fashioned chair, which rose above him with ornate carved woodwork like a throne. "Sit." he instructed Paul, who complied. Michael stared down at Paul, his eyes boring into him as the silence stretched on, deafening. Paul opened his mouth to speak, to break the silence, when he was preemptively cut off by Michael. "So, I couldn't help but overhear a bit of your conversation with Larry. Now, I know you've always been given over to somewhat... radical, conspiratorial thinking. Which is fine, as long as it doesn't interfere with productivity. And up until recently, you were one of our more reliable, productive workers. But lately, the quality and quantity of your work has been... lacking. Severely lacking. So I'm going to be blunt with you. If you want to keep your job, you tell me what's been going on. Don't try and bullshit me, I can see in someone's eyes when they're lying." And with that, he narrowed his eyes and stared at Paul, evaluating him.

Paul had to think fast. He'd kept this project a secret because he knew it would get shut down, that all his side projects would be under scrutiny, all the wasted time, all the times he came into the office late because he'd been up the night before chasing after some lead – they'd all be put on review, and he knew he'd never get another of his articles published. But now... _The situation's changed. I can justify every minute spent on this. I've got the ace in the hole. Still, best to try and be politic about this._ "Okay, I understand your concern. You want to make sure everything is okay with me. So I'm going to come out and be completely honest with you. Almost since I first came here, I've been doing independent investigations into... well, whatever caught my eye. That's where the small articles I've been publishing came from – not just things I ran into while on another assignment, I had to search for them in my free time... and sometimes when I should be doing assigned work, I'll admit. But now, I've found something that's going to blow up. Something that will put this paper on the map and tear this town wide open."

Micheal rolled his eyes, muttering, "I've heard this before." He went back to his steely-eyed look, simply stating, "Continue."

Paul cleared his throat, unnerved. "Um, so anyway, I was interviewing some of the people who were being displaced and arrested because of the new zero-tolerance policy-"

"The whores and the vagrants – lowlives, all of them, and their stories are unreliable. Continue."

_That reactionary little... calm down, you have to make your case to him._ "Well, the veracity of their story is irrelevant. See, I was just working on a sort of human interest story, but, well... I've uncovered something much, much bigger. This is going to blow the whole administration wide open, probably even lead to the police chief and mayor being indicted-"

"I presume," Michael spat, condescension written on his face, "that you have some kind of evidence to back up these outrageous claims? Because I'll have you know that the chief of police is a personal friend of mine, and unless you've got incontrovertible proof, I expect you to pack your things and be out of here tonight."

"But it's all right there, in the public record! See, all the victims of the new policy-"

"They made the choices that put them on the wrong side of the law. They are responsible for their incarceration."

"But see, they're being more than just arrested. They all spoke of the way people arrested were held for increasingly longer periods of time, how no one heard from those rounded up from the streets, how-"

"You expect me to believe," Michael bellowed, rising out of his chair, standing above Paul like a tower of muscle, "that my good friend, Joseph, the duly appointed Chief of Police of this city, is kidnapping these vagrants? For what purpose? What on earth would anyone want with these creatures? And all this, based on the report of unreliable, inconsistent, amoral fools? Maybe they were being held while they went through withdrawal from whatever drugs they were on! Maybe they were checked into some kind of hospital or rehab program for their own good! I feel like if they aren't going back to their derelict lifestyle, that's a good thing! Don't commies like you believe in rehabilitation?"

"I have solid proof!" Paul retorted, rising to his feet t match his adversary's stance. "I have names, pictures of people I've interviewed, people all who have ended up in missing reports cases-"

"Like that means anything!" Michael bellowed, overruling his objections with a fist slammed on the table. "Again, they're vagrants! I don't think you seem to understand – these aren't civilized people, like you and me! They live dissolute lives, drifting from place to place, barely able to maintain connections or communication. This is all circumstantial. There would have to be at least matching arrest records for it to even be considered possible, and-"

"There are no arrest records!" Paul screamed back, his argument on its last legs, his desperation and outrage now openly flaring forth. "The new law, there was a provision in it, slipped in at the last minute, saying that to save on administrative costs, there didn't have to be records of who was arrested in the cleanups. It passed because people were only supposed to be in jail for a day, but now it seems that people are being held for weeks, maybe more, maybe even indefinitely, without due process, without trial-"

"Enough!" Michael's shout was loud enough to rattle the glass on the windows of his office. He stomped around the desk, moving directly next to Paul, now staring him down from a height advantage of almost a foot. "Let's pretend for a minute that any of what you're saying was true. That the scum of society was being held without trial for 'weeks on end,' you say as though its the most horrible thing that could happen to a person. You know what I say about that? I think a month in the slammer would do these people some good. Teach them some discipline, teach them what happens if you sell your body or beg for money. So even if I believed your delusional stories – and I don't – I can promise you that this paper would never, under any circumstances, publish a story that implicated my friend Parks in anything that could be perceived negatively. So, I'll tell you what, you idiotic bleeding-heart bastard. You have 20 minutes to clear out your desk. If you're a second slow, I'll throw you out on the street myself. Starting, now!" Michael began a stopwatch on his wrist, then glared at Paul, fury blazing in his eyes.

Paul just stood there, agape, unable to believe this was happening. How could someone willingly accept such injustice, such... "This is a violation of the constitution, of basic human rights, of-"

"I don't fucking care!" Michael screamed directly into Paul's face, then grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground. "Clear your desk, before I decide to have you sent to jail for trespassing! Hell, I could even make sure Parks knows what you're accusing him of, maybe make sure you stay locked up for a month or two with your bum friends! Now get out!" Michael hurled Paul in the direction of the door. Paul was able to catch himself with his feet, and stumbled, before catching himself against the door. He turned to stare back at Michael, not ready to accept this kind of treatment, but knowing he was utterly powerless – this man was a tank! Michael pointed out the door, screaming, "Go!"

Paul gave in. He meekly stepped out the door, scuttling over to his desk, quickly and quietly grabbing almost a year's worth of work. He couldn't stop himself from shaking, couldn't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. _I won't fucking cry. I'm stronger than that. Fuck this place. I was never going to change anything from here, anyway. I... I have to get this story out somehow. I need... I need to get those missing persons reports. I'll go to my old college friend, Ryan. He runs an underground newspaper, an activist website. He'll get this out. I'll show this old dinosaur._

Paul shoved all the important documents for this case, along with all of his independent articles, into his backpack. He quickly walked over to Larry's desk. He was keeping his head low, buried in work. "Hey, Larry. Um, so I don't know if you heard..."

Larry looked up barking, "Ha! I'm sure people down the block could hear Michael. Sorry, kid. You're a good reporter, you really are, but you pissed off Michael. That's how it goes. If it's any consolation, you got my respect."

Paul smiled, glad that at least someone appreciated him standing up for basic human decency. "Thanks. Hey, before that brute kicks me out of here, could I get a copy of the missing persons reports?"

Larry smiled at him and handled him a thick binder full of papers. "Here you go. I already copied them while you were getting chewed out. I figured you'd want them. So you're not giving up on this, are you?"

Paul took the binder and stuffed it into his already full backpack, barely zipping the thing closed. He stared into Larry's eyes, steely resolve in them. "Never. I'm going to take down Michael, too, for his part in covering this up. You see. This is going to blow the city wide open."

Larry just shook his head, looking at Paul with bemusement. "I remember when I was like you. Ah, to be young and idealistic again. Well, good luck. You're gonna need it."

"Thanks, I guess." Michael opened the door to his office, spotting Paul right away.

"You've got a minute before I throw you out on the street. Get out!" He bellowed.

Paul rolled his eyes and headed out the door, waving goodbye to Larry and his old career.

Paul made his way to the bar Ryan told him to meet at, the same bar that had begun his quest for justice and truth, where the strange paranoid man had put him on the trail. He was nowhere to be found, but Ryan showed up after a few minutes.

Ryan didn't look like your typical activist – clean cut, constantly in a perfectly pressed, solid color collared shirt with rolled up sleeves and jeans, he looked like a cross between a businessman and a ranch hand. Ryan had always pointed out that if you wanted to reach the masses, you needed to be able to make a good first impression. Right now, Paul looked anything but respectable, wearing a black hoodie and stained jeans, his eyes sunken from lack of sleep, alcohol on his breath, as he'd been throwing back drinks to numb himself to the pain of being fired, of injustice prevailing. This was his last hope.

Ryan walked over to the bar, slapping Paul on the back and laughing. "Still dressing the part of the angry rebel, huh? Can I get two shots of vodka? Thanks." Grabbing the glass, he raised it to Paul, saying, "Here's to changing the world, one day at a time." Paul downed it with Ryan, already feeling elated to have a friend an ally. "Okay, now this better be real. I don't have any time anymore – the fight for justice is more than a full time job."

"Oh, it's real, trust me." Paul explained the entire situation, from how it began in this bar, to his investigations, the missing persons reports, and finally his firing. He sat there for a moment, out of breath from running through everything.

Ryan held his chin in his hands, thinking. "Ok. Ok. This is big. I need to see your evidence." Paul pulled out Larry's binder and his own, laying them side by side. Paul sipped his beer while Ryan scanned everything, Paul occasionally piping up to point out when there was overlap between the binders. After a few minutes, Ryan broke the silence. "Listen. I believe you, and this is mind blowing, to think that they're just sweeping people up into prison. I suspected this for awhile, but this is the first time I've seen anything solid, anything that's absolutely convinced me that this is what's happening. However," he took in a breath before continuing, as Paul's heart sank, knowing bad news was coming, "this isn't enough to take down the chief of police, let alone the mayor. I know it seems open and shut to you and me, but they'll find all kinds of ways to dodge the truth. See, first of all, they'll call into question your interviews. Even if we pushed this – and we could, there are those who'd believe us, we could rally them – they'd just take everyone they've kept locked up and release them, then change the arrest records. I've seen this happen before. But, I can and will publish this. We're going to make waves in the activist world, and at the very least we'll force them to release everyone to avoid a scandal."

Paul sighed, clutching his head in his hand. "And the policy continues, and nothing really changes."

"That's not true. You'll save lives. This could help us in our push to reverse this policy, highlighting the injustice. And I can take you on as a reporter, let you write the article."

Paul smiled at his friend. "Thanks. I mean, a volunteer position is no replacement for a paid position, but it means a lot. I've realized that mainstream journalism is never going to change anything, anyway – it's all in the hands of rich, uptight assholes."

Ryan shot him a bemused smile. "I remember telling you that when you started this job."

Paul sighed. "Yeah, and again, you're right. I wish I'd listened, but I guess I had to learn for myself. I just wish there was some way I could bring the truth to light, some way I could really bring down Michael, Parks, and Mayor Riordan."

"You can," a gravelly voice said from behind Paul.

He turned and saw the man who had begun this crusade. His eyes went wide. "You! You put me on to this, you were the one-"

"Before you give me too much credit, all I did was suggest that you do your job as an investigative reporter and talk to the people downtown. But yeah, I guess I was the one that opened your eyes. The question is, now that you've got a glimpse of the way the world really is, do you still want to know more? I mean, it sounds like your whole life has been messed up. You lost your job, and you still don't have proof. So the real question here is: do you want to keep pushing this? I can guarantee you, you keep digging, your life is over. At least, your life as you've known it. So, do you finally want some answers? Think very, very carefully about this before you-"

"Yes!" Paul shouted, not needing to think, knowing down in his gut that he would pursue the truth no matter what it cost, no matter how miserable it made him. "I have so many questions! Why are they keeping these people when it costs the city money? Are they keeping them in normal jail, or-"

The man cut him off with a gesture, then took a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Paul. He looked over it, finding only an address on it, and the following words: "You'll find the people who have been disappeared in here. Go prepared for trouble, and go prepared to gather evidence. And go alone."

Paul looked up, a million questions on his mind – and the man was gone, vanished as though he was never there. He blinked, not sure what was going on, if the man had been there or... he turned to Ryan. "Did you see that?"

Ryan nodded solemnly, his eyes wide with fear for the first time Paul had ever seen. "Yeah. The only other person I've ever seen who could vanish like that was a CIA operative. Watched him appear and disappear like a ghost in the middle of the protests against the election fraud in Florida. Which means either this guy is high up and has gone off the reservation, and we're close to revealing something big, something really big the public isn't supposed to know about, or..."

Ryan trailed off, driving Paul to reply, "Or what?"

Ryan shook his head. "Or this is some kind of trap. What do you know about this guy? What did you say to him?"

Paul racked his brains, thinking back. "I know he's a regular here. I know he spews conspiracy theories a lot. I responded to him talking to some people responding to my questions about what was going on downtown. I didn't indicate any sympathy for the downtrodden, anything that would have made him view me as a threat or a target. I just said I was curious. I did reveal I was a reporter, but all he told me was that I should go interview the people affected by these policies. As he said, he didn't even do much. This is the first real information I've gotten from him."

"Hm..." Ryan held his chin, contemplating. "Still, it's not like you haven't made waves among people who know Chief Parks personally. He could have tipped someone off. What are the odds of him just showing up when we're here? It's too coincidental. And if I've learned anything in all my time trying to fight the established power structure, it's that there are no coincidences. Not like this. I don't think you should go."

Paul shook his head. "I don't care. I'm going."

Ryan just sighed. "I knew you'd say that. Always the hero, always out to uncover the truth. You realize this could get you killed, right?"

Paul nodded, squaring his jaw, steeling himself. "I'm willing to accept that risk. If there's even a chance of me bringing this to light, if there's even a chance of me making a difference in some significant way, I have to try. Otherwise, I'll spend the rest of my life, regretting and wondering."

Ryan nodded, his eyes becoming cold and calculating as he went into overdrive mode. Paul had seen this before, and it meant Ryan was about to work wonders. "Okay, hero. So here's how we're going to do this. You're going to leave all this evidence with me. I'm going to drop it off to my people, make sure the expose is being worked on tonight. You're going to go home, prepare yourself, and not go anywhere near my people or my safe houses. Don't need any heat on there right now. I'll slip out the back of this bar while you go out the front. You're probably being watched, but whatever. As long as I'm safe, we can still get this thing out. Three questions: do you have some form of personal protection, can you pick locks, and do you have one of those new fancy spacephones?"

Paul nodded, replying, "Yes, yes, and yes. Got a Glock, got a professional lockpicking kit and way too much practice, and I have one of the newest models of Blackberry. Kind of necessary for my job... that I don't have any more."

"Yes, you do. You just work for a better organization. One that needs you more than ever. Paul, every progressive cause that working class people have fought for years for is being eroded everywhere. California is one of the last bastions of that progress, and even here we're under attack. This might cost you your life, but it might just be what we need to turn back the tide, at least on the west coast. You're going to go in to this place, weapon drawn, and you're going to take video. As soon as you find the evidence we need, email it to me. I'll make sure your story is told, even if you can't tell it. And Paul?" Paul looked his old college friend square in the eye, almost feeling the power and energy of his cause, his charisma flowing into him, emboldening him. "You are being given a chance almost no one gets any more. You're being given – no, you're reaching out and taking the opportunity to change the world. If you encounter police or security, don't be afraid. Don't back down. Not until we get that evidence. If you die, you die for something, which is more than most people can say." Ryan got up, taking Paul's backpack, and Paul rose with him. "Oh, and try to destroy your phone after sending that. It would make things way, way easier. You sure you're ready to do this?"

Paul threw his head back and laughed. "Ready to drag the truth out in the open and change the world? I've been ready my whole life."

Ryan smiled from ear to ear and slapped his brother in arms on the back. "That's the revolutionary spirit the world needs. I hope I see you again soon, Paul. But even if I don't, know that I'm proud of you, and I'm glad to call you my friend." Emboldened by that battle speech, Paul headed out the door.

An hour later, Paul stood in front of an enormous warehouse in a run-down industrial section of L.A. He checked the pocket of his hoodie, comforted by the feeling of cold steel inside the pocket. He pulled his blackberry out and pointed the camera at himself, recording as he spoke to Ryan, to the California Crusader News, to the citizens of Los Angeles, to the world. "My name is Paul, I am a reporter, formerly of the Los Angeles Daily News. I've uncovered the fact that the police are permanently imprisoning, without due process, those swept up in the Mayor's new "clean city" initiative. I was fired from my job for attempting to break this story. I am about to break into the warehouse behind me, which an anonymous source has informed me is the location where some of these victims are being held. I am going to document everything inside so that you, the people, can know the truth." He turned the camera towards the building, making sure to show the address and state it for the camera. Then he stopped the video and emailed it, waiting to make sure he got confirmation that it had worked, that this whole idea could work. A minute later, Ryan emailed him back, letting him know that things were good, that he could move forward.

A minute later, the tumblers on the lock on one of the side doors clicked into place, and Paul was in. It was pitch-black inside. He pulled out his flashlight and held in his left hand with his phone, his gun in his right, all three objects pointing in the same direction at all times. He started recording as soon as he was in, and immediately started shouting, asking if anyone was there. He didn't know who or what was inside, but obviously this wasn't the time for stealth or discretion – if this was going to blow up, he wanted it to be as public and dramatic as possible.

There was no response, so he started searching around. The place was a disappointment. He couldn't find any jail cells, no signs of life, nothing at all really – just a series of storage containers, each with hitches to be attached to a truck. In other words, exactly what you'd expect to find in a warehouse. Paul felt bile rise up in him, as he realized he'd been duped. _This whole thing was probably a trap. I'm sure the cops are on their way now._ _I should just get out of here while I can. But... but... still, why would the man go through all this trouble? Something doesn't add up here. I should look inside one of these containers, just to be sure, or I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if I missed something._

He leaned over, carefully picking the pins into place, carefully setting all the tumblers to an even level. He felt the satisfying click. He sighed in relief, knowing he'd find nothing here, glad this whole ordeal was finally over. He removed the padlock and opened the latch, before swinging the door of the container open wide.

He shined his light inside, then dropped the flashlight, terrified by what he saw. _I saw that wrong. That couldn't be..._ He grabbed the light again and shined it into the container, and felt bile rise up again, this time barely contained.

On each side of the container, attached to the side by an elaborate contraption, were people. Human beings, shackled and hooked up to some kind of device. He moved in, getting a closer look, recording everything. It was like something out of a nightmare – or the Matrix. Every person had a feeding tube inserted into their mouth, some kind of apparatus around their waist that he assumed removed waste, A screen that read out vital signs on their left, and IV needles hooked into their right arms, slowly pumping blood out into large bags. Each one held about three or four liters. There were forty people in this container, and there were about forty containers in the warehouse. _My god, there are thousands of people in here, all completely trapped in this hell!_

Paul was trembling, unable to comprehend this horror. This was far, far worse than the most oppressive, neo-nazi prison he'd imagined encountering. "I don't know if you can comprehend what this is," Paul said to the recording, "but these people are completely trapped, immobile, and seem to be having their blood drained. This is beyond inhuman. This is what has been happening to those picked up in the sweeps downtown. I don't know why this is being done to them, but I'm going to find out if I can." He went down the row, looking, hoping against hope she'd be there... and there she was, a horrible mockery of the free-loving, elusive beauty he'd encountered in the alley. Hannah was pale and pallid, her eyes sunken and closed. He could barely steady his voice long enough to utter, her name. "Hannah?" She opened her eyes slowly, blinded by the light. He moved it away from her face, and she focused her gaze. Her eyes started to go wide, and then a miserable, desperate moan escaped her lips. She started twitching, then struggling, desperately trying to pull out of her bonds, rattling the container. The noise woke up her neighbors, who started shouting around their feeding tubes and struggling, too. Soon, the whole container was awake and struggling and screaming, and the sound was the stuff of nightmares, desperate misery echoing around a chamber of dehumanization.

Paul wanted to set her free, but he knew he didn't have time. He needed to get out of here, get help, make sure Ryan got this. He headed for the entrance.

"Now, see, you've gone and upset them. They were sleeping so peacefully."

Standing at the entrance was none other than the Chief of Police of Los Angeles, Bernard Parks, with an officer on either side of him. Paul froze in his tracks, fixing his light, camera, and gun and Parks. They both stood there, facing off, until the officer on Parks' right said, "I think he's got a weapon drawn."

Parks smirked, simply saying, "That so?" He quickly pulled his own weapon, his companions drawing their own immediately after, all three guns fixed on Paul.

Every instinct in his head told him to run, to get out of here. But there was only one way out, and the forces of oppression held it. He took in a deep breath, realizing that this was going to be his last stand. Ryan was right. He was going to die here. But he would die for something worthwhile. He had to make sure this got out – and he had to get a confession on camera. "So you're involved in this monstrosity. Is the entire police department in on this? Is the Mayor?"

Parks held his head back and laughed. "Of course not. We couldn't keep the entire force quiet. Just a select few. Even the Mayor doesn't know the details. He thinks we're just taking the derelicts outside the city somewhere, dumping them in the desert. He's usually pretty cooperative, but there's only so much he needs to know. You, however, already know far, far more than you ought to. Now, you don't have to die. If you come quietly, you'll be allowed to live, I promise."

"Live in one of these pods, you mean? You call this living? This is monstrous! How can you possibly condone this? Do you have no conscience?"

Parks just smirked. "I wouldn't call what they were doing before living, either. Hell, this was already going on for most of them, just in a more sporadic way. Really, they're better off this way. And so are you. But it's your choice – imprisonment or death."

"Just for seeing the wrong thing?"

"I've killed people for less. This secret can't get out."

With that, Paul ended the recording. He had to buy time while he attached this to an email and sent it to Ryan. While his fingers worked, he kept his mouth running, kept his eyes focused on Parks. "Look, maybe we can make some kind of deal. I can keep my mouth shut, but I don't want to end up like this. There's got to be something you can offer me. I'm desperate. You don't want me shooting my way out of here."

Parks laughed, a mildly amused chuckle. "I honestly don't give a shit. Try and shoot me. See what happens."

Paul was almost there. He just had to type in the email address... "Look, I'm willing to take an offer. Throw something on the table. Let's work something out."

Parks shook his head. "No can do. A bullet or a cell, your call. Last chance to make a choice before its made for you."

Paul was almost done. Just a few more seconds... "Okay, okay, give me a second to think about it, hold on, man."

He hist the send button. Sending... Sending... Right as it said 'Sent,' Parks demanded a response. "What's it gonna be?"

Paul wasn't going to bother replying. He just pulled the trigger and shot the Chief of Police.

He fired, over and over again, riddling the man with bullets. He knew he got at least a few good shots in, but the man just laughed, like it was nothing, and then opened fire, all three of them.

Paul felt the impact as his insides were ripped apart, as every organ died and failed miserably. He felt the life drain out of him, felt as all that he was slip away. The pain was sharp and hot, and as he fell to the ground, his energy drained, his muscles no longer able to respond, he suddenly felt cold. So cold and empty. He felt detached, as though he was watching this all through a television screen. But through it all, he felt contented. _This was going to make national headlines. This would change the world. I've done it. I've lived and died for something worthwhile._

Parks walked over to Pauls wrecked body on the verge of death. He kicked Paul's limp form, and the agonizing pain made him groan. "Still kicking, huh? Gotta say, you earned a little respect from me. Not too many these days have the guts to pull something like that. Too bad for you, you're in way over your head."

And that was the one thing that bothered Paul. He knew he'd hit the man's head – he could see the bleeding wound from his light. How was he still alive? A little unsolved mystery that he just could not stand. If only he had answers...

"He's not the only one in over his depth," a voice shouted from the darkness.

Parks started to turn, shouting, "Who-" before a blur appeared next to him. The next instant, the man to his right had blood flying from his neck and chest as he fell to the ground. A woman, hair covered in a patterned gypsy shawl, wearing a paisley skirt, eyes dark and terrible, stared through Parks, holding a curved knife covered in blood next to the officer. Parks and his remaining cop stepped back, panic in their eyes as they raised their guns and fired. She didn't even flinch at the gunfire. She became a blur, and an instant later she stood next to the other officer, knife in hand as he fell to the floor, dead.

Parks started to stammer. "What are you doing? I work for your kind!"

She turned to him, dark hate in her eyes, and she spoke with an eloquence that inspired the brightest hope in Paul, and all but crushed Parks' spirit. "Our kind does not condone such abomination. One of our kind, one who would call himself Prince, apparently does. You are LaCroix's ghoul, no?" Parks could only nod mutely. "Your master is my enemy, the enemy of all the undead who would be free. And that makes you my target."

Parks tried to raise his weapon, but she was on him in an instant. Paul stared, incredulously, as she extended her fangs and sank them into Parks' neck. Suddenly, everything clicked. _The blood collection... holy shit, the Chief of Police serves a vampire!_ Paul felt himself getting woozy, felt himself slipping away, saw the room start to go dark, but was glad that at the end, he at least got some kind of closure. _Still... I have so many questions..._

The woman pulled her fangs out, and Parks collapsed, drained but still alive. She took off his handcuffs and attached him to one of the pods. Then she turned to Paul. She stood over him, her eyes seeming to burn into him, into his soul. He wished he could draw breath, to thank her, but he was mute and helpless. After a moment of silence, she spoke. "You showed great strength of character, refusing to give up or give in. You were ready and willing to die to make the world a better place. You are a rarity in the world today, and not a person that should be taken from us so casually. I offer you life, but in return, you must serve me. It is the only way. Do you accept?" As much as Paul hated the idea of serving anyone, he could respect and trust this woman. And he wanted answers. Paul nodded, ever so slightly. She moved over to him, placing her wrist above his mouth, and cut her veins open, pouring her black blood into his mouth.

Elation and power, pleasure and life filled him. He felt the cold shoved out, felt warmth return. He felt all the broken organs and muscles, bones and tendons knit themselves back together. In a mere minute he was alive and whole again, dragged back from the edge of death. Even though he got to make his death mean something – or maybe, because he had – he'd been given a second chance at life.

.-. .-.

Paul drifted back into the here and now, back to his existence as one of the dead, miserable as it was, much as he wanted to retreat back into his memories of when he still lived and breathed. But the memory of his salvation, of his second chance at life, gave him hope, pulling him out of the utter despair he'd fallen into. The energy of his existence, the reason he kept going – the energy the old man had called Pathos – returned to him. The way in which he'd been healed by the blood was now mirrored outside of the memory. He felt his body - or rather, his Corpus, as the man had called the wraithly form of ghosts – repair itself, knitting all the shredded parts together. There was more to this existence now than pain and despair.

He gently pushed himself up into the sitting position. It was a herculean effort – he was sore, horribly sore, and could barely move. He sat, engaging in the meditation techniques Mazoline had taught him. He pulled within himself, blocking out all external stimuli, all thoughts about his situation, about himself, and repeated the mantra. _I am. I am whole. I am at peace. I am a positive force in the universe. I will be myself, no matter what happens around me. I will prevail in all I set my mind to._

Paul felt the despair slip away, felt that pillar of strength return. He tried to take in a calming breath, but as he had found right after death, such an action was impossible. It made him bitter and melancholy, the sharp reminder of his current state. He shook his head, shoving out the negativity. _I have to stay on point. I have to stay focused, if I don't..._

_**What? What's going to happen if you give up? It's not like you're going to accomplish anything anyway. You've wasted your life struggling to make a difference, and you didn't make a dent while you were alive. Now, you're literally nothing – you're dead, a ghost, an insubstantial shade. You're just going to be frustrated and miserable again if you delude yourself into thinking you can change anything.**_

_No! _Paul screamed within his mind at the expression of all his negativity, of all he refused to allow to enter his mind. _I know I made a difference in life, and I can make one now! Sure, Hannah is dead. I tried my hardest, but I couldn't stop that. But I can help her in this world. I can be there when she wakes up, help her understand this world. I have to get to her! I have to be there when she's reborn!_

_**Ha! I think you'll find that even in this world, you can't do anything worthwhile. But go ahead, try your hardest. Just don't come crying to me when it turns out I'm right. All you'll get is an 'I told you so.'**_

Paul just smiled, knowing a victory when he saw one. He took a moment to get his bearings, then headed in the direction of his old apartment. The streets of LA were different after his fall into the ground. Just as they had changed after he'd died. When he first looked at LA while dead, he noticed everything was in a state of decay, and seemed on the verge of collapse. Even the seemingly monolithic glass skyscrapers of downtown, that bastion of privilege and spotlessness, showed cracks in their facades. But even among the decay, things had seemed somewhat... lively. People, living and dead, still went about their daily business, the bustle of the day a constant reminder of the life still going on around him. It had been kind of fun, when he first realized he could wander out into traffic and have a car pass right through him. That was really the weirdest part about being dead, how insubstantial everything seemed. You could watch, but do so little...

But now, the world of the dead seemed to have changed drastically. They sky was now utterly pitch-black, not a star or light source to be seen. The streets were ripped apart, as though an earthquake had come through and ravaged the city. Most of the buildings were collapsed heaps of rubble, or about to become one. There was barely any light, maybe one streetlamp per block, producing small pockets of light in the middle of almost pitch darkness. And the streets, the buildings... normally there was someone, something moving around, but now... absolutely no one. LA was deserted. Paul was alone. _What's going on? What happened to me? What happened to LA?_

_**Maybe you've been sitting and daydreaming too long. Maybe the world has ended. It's probably too late for you to do anything for Hannah – she died years ago! Do you still want to waste your time struggling and suffering? Why not just go back into your memories – those are pleasant enough, right?**_

Paul shook his head and shoved his Shadow aside. He had to get to his apartment building, to Hannah. There was no need for thought, no need for anything but action. He took a minute to orient himself in this strange, post-apocalyptic version of the land of the dead, but LA was his city, he knew these streets like the back of his hand. He knew where he needed to go. He had no idea what he'd do when he got there, but that didn't matter – he needed to be with Hannah. She was all he had, she was his only love. He ran through the shadows, seeking hope.

… ...

Paul had been running for an hour without a break Despite the lack of a physical body, he felt exhausted by his marathon run. He'd never felt anything resembling physical exhaustion since he'd died – this new version of the underworld seemed to be somehow more solid, more real, more wearying. It was as though it took all the negative aspects of life and added them to this world. Everything seemed to terribly solid, so terribly harsh. He'd run this whole way and not seen a soul, living or dead.

Now, he turned a corner and his apartment building came into sight. It was like an island of stability among the cracked and destroyed streets. It was in perfect condition, untouched by the decay that had infected everything around it. And there, walking towards the front entrance, was the first soul he'd seen since he'd fallen into the ground – a soul not quite living and not quite dead. Lucius was heading to the door, about to enter his home.

_Thank god! I knew he'd keep his word!_ Paul found his second wind and burst into an all-out sprint towards his supernatural patron.

"Lucius!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. He kept screaming, trying to get his attention, trying with all his might to cross the veil and be seen, be heard, make a difference somehow on the other side. But it was as thought Lucius heard nothing, as though he wasn't even there. Paul sprinted towards him as he opened the door and stepped inside. He sprinted at full speed at the door as it closed behind Lucius. He sprinted right at it, intending to pass through. Instead, he felt sharp pain as he smashed into a very solid, very real object. He flew back and fell into the ground, clutching his mouth. _What the fuck... what's going on? Oh god, are those my teeth? Am I bleeding? It's not blood, some kind of goey blue stuff, but still... this isn't like anything I've experienced so far. What's happening?_

_**Terms of the bargain. Or don't you remember? You were so desperate to get Lucius' attention. I told you I could let you appear to him... at a price. Or have you forgotten already?**_

It had seemed like forever since he'd been dragged down. He could barely remember. Pulling himself into his memories, he sharpened his awareness of the past. _I remember. I said I'd do anything to save Hannah. But it made no difference._

_**That's what I told you. I said that it didn't matter, you couldn't make a difference, but if you wanted the ability, I could offer it to you... for an unspecified price. And now I'm taking the payment owed to me... in part. You'll see the full price soon enough. But in this version of the world of the dead, things are all too solid. Especially the barrier separating the living and the dead. Try as you might, he won't hear you. And even if he did, he won't care. He's an undead beast. He cares about himself and his own survival, nothing more. He doesn't care about you, never did.**_

_Then why is he here? You're full of lies and bullshit. I just need to get in there and help him help Hannah, just like how he helped me. I just need to-_ Paul tried to turn the doorknob, but as before, the physical world ignored his efforts to affect it. He looked up and saw a drainage pipe leading up to the top floor. Hannah's window was open. It would be a rough climb, but if he could get up there...

Paul didn't hesitate. He struggled to get a grip, to pull himself up the pipe. He got a few yards up when he lost his grip and fell to the ground, breaking a leg, sending sharp jolts of pain through him.

_**Pathetic! You're going to wear yourself out just trying to get up there for nothing. There's nothing but disappointment and despair in there. Just save yourself the trouble, weakling.**_

Paul ignored the voice and focused on his leg. He remembered what it was like to heal himself with the power of the blood, and it had felt similar when he healed his Corpus with his Pathos. He just had to concentrate, and...

His leg was set, his teeth regrown. Pulling himself up, he eyed the pipe with steely determination. _I am going to reach Hannah. I am going to be there for her when she enters this world. I refuse to leave her to face this place alone._ With that, he returned to his ordeal, determined to make some kind of difference.

… … …

I entered the apartment complex, and nearly jumped at the cop who was standing in the lobby. _Not what I need to deal with right now._ I looked into his eyes and Tranced him, taking care of that problem before it started. I walked past the officer and called the elevator, taking it to the top floor. _I hope they aren't here for Hannah. Probably not, if she just died. So they're probably investigating Paul's apartment. Well, whatever. Just need to deal with this and get out without more legal trouble. Not sure what I'm doing here, but whatever._

The doors opened to an empty hallway. I quickly picked the lock and entered her room, rushing up the stairs to the bed where Hannah had been confined. I knew as soon as she entered the room. I checked her pulse to be sure, but there was no doubt. She was dead.

_Great. So what do I do now?_ I grabbed Paul's finger and tried to talk to him. "Paul, you there? Hello?" No answer. I thought over my options at this point. _I can't save her by feeding her my blood, she'd already dead. Would that embrace her, if I did that while she was a corpse? Not an option. I'm not risking my neck over this, and I'm not even sure if vampirism is better than being a ghost. Really, at this point, I've tried my hardest. No one could fault me for walking away at this point. Still... I'm kind of curious. I wonder..._

I remembered the first ritual on the paper I'd stolen from Joey. To look into the eyes of the dead and see their last moments... far easier than the ritual I'd performed multiple times to summon the dead. I just had to enter that morbid meditative state and stare into their eyes. I closed my eyes and quickly entered the mindset, focusing on Hannah now, and activating Auspex with its focus on the world of the dead. I looked into Hannah's glossy eyes and stared into her dilated pupils. At first I just saw my reflection, but as I stared deeper and deeper, moving my eyes closer to hers, my own pupils filled the reflection, and staring through the darkness in my own reflected eyes, I saw a vision, I saw...

.-. .-. .-.

Hannah lay helplessly on her bed, too weak to move, too weak to even cry. She knew she was dying. Her mind had been clouded for so long, she hadn't been aware of anything – not herself, or the pitiful state of her body or hygiene. Only two things had pushed through the haze – the urge to keep having sex with as many people as possible, whether they paid or not, and the desire to see Paul again. Now that the haze had lifted, the first urge passed away like a nightmare. When she thought back to what she'd done the last month, she cried in shame. Yes, her line of work wasn't the most savory, but she'd always had standards, always maintained a standard of dignity. Hell, she'd even felt proud of herself, performing a needed service professionally and excellently, while refusing to be demeaned or degraded. She wasn't a whore, she was a goddamned escort, and she would be treated as such.

Or at least, she had been, before meeting that _demon_, that Jezebel. It had changed everything. The pleasure she'd felt put every sexual experience to utter shame, and the most shameful part was how desperate she'd been to feel it again, how eager she was to drink every word up and obey. She couldn't understand herself, looking back. She didn't know what had overcome her, as she continued to work, and then just throw herself away while sick. She knew that was wrong, that she was spreading whatever illness she had contracted. But at the time, the pleasure of obedience was far too great to ignore. And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was the knowledge that she'd probably made poor Paul sick.

That poor man – he really loved her. Really and truly. It was sad and beautiful, all at once. She didn't think he knew what she did to pay the rent, though for some reason she felt like he did, like she'd told him at some point... for some reason, a certain time in her life was so hazy, her memory just muddled... But he never seemed to bring it up, and she could never bring herself to tell him. He'd idealized her, acted like a gentleman, professed his love to her – she'd never had a man treat her like this, not ever. She'd always been strikingly beautiful, she'd known that since high school, but for some reason her life had been devoid of real romance. In some ways, he was her first real boyfriend – in the same way she was his first. God, that had been one hell of a shock. How does someone go that long without losing their virginity? It was such a weird thought, that they were the same age and had lived such utterly different lives. But it was sweet, really and truly touching, the lengths he went to to show his love, to show the purity of his intentions, almost like some kind of white knight from another age.

That was why the knowledge she'd hurt him tore her up inside. She wished she could call him, talk to him just one more time before the end, but she didn't even have the energy to pick up the phone. She barely had the energy to cry. She wondered if she was going to hell for this. She'd rejected the religious beliefs of her grandmother, who had taught her some... unorthodox things, to say the least. Her grandmammy... she thought back, to the old woman talking about the lands of the dead, about how one had to care for the restless spirits. She looked over to the bookshelf, where the dreamcatcher sat, unused, along with the book of protective prayers she'd been given, never read aloud. It was only now, at the end of her life, when she couldn't get up to touch these talismans, to use them, that she had any interest in such things. Life was so full of bitter irony...

She closed her eyes, just wishing the end would come, hating this endless, miserable wait. She felt something inside her keeping her connected to this world, some remnant of Jezebel, and burned it away, giving herself the heightened senses she'd come to rely on since her encounter. She opened her eyes again, weaker than ever, ready for the end.

Everything swam, and she saw something translucent and shadowy. A hooded figure, covered in tattered rags that seemed to drift slightly in a light breeze. Instead of a scythe, he held some kind of rusty curved knife. She blinked, and he was still there. Was this the face of death?

She tried to cry out to him, but could barely produce a desperate croak. But the spirit noticed. "Ah," he whispered, barely audible, as though his whisper was echoing down a long corridor. "You can see me. Then you're nearly dead. Any moment now, you'll cross over."

"I... I know," Hannah whispered, bitterly resigned to her fate. "I wish, I wish I got to talk to Paul one more time. I... is my grandmammy there? I want her to be here... Are you the reaper?"

The figure threw back its hooded head and laughed, revealing a face that looked like an ancient, desiccated mummy, shriveled and black. "I'm your reaper, but not _the_ reaper. But anyone can reap a soul. You just have to be there when someone dies. I knew this place was full of death, and I've just been waiting patiently for you to croak. And now comes the payoff."

Hannah stared at the figure, who was seeming more malevolent by the moment. "What do you mean, payoff? Do you get something for helping me through to the other side?"

He leered down at her, his eyes bulging from sunken sockets, staring with lust and greed and making her want to crawl away. "Oh, you poor, naive fool. You're coming to this side whether I'm here or not. What I'm here to do, is collect your soul when you pass through. And the payoff," he cackled as he pulled shackles from inside his robe, "is you! A fresh soul like you would fetch a nice price on the slave markets in downtown LA. See, I hate to break it to you, but there's no heaven, no hell, just a shithole that's a lot like the living world, where people are bought and sold, and all that matters is money. Now, I might just keep you – you look like you might be fun for awhile." And with that, the mummy pulled his lips back, revealing a skeletal smile, laughing through his teeth as he pulled his hood up. He stood there, a wretched and perverse mockery of the grim reaper, blade in one hand, shackles in the other, becoming more and more solid, more and more real.

Hannah panicked, trying to move, trying to escape, but far too weak now. She utterly regretted burning away that blood, knowing she could have used it for a final burst of strength, to move, to call for help, anything. She had to get out of here, but she felt herself slipping away, and her last sensation in life was helplessness and terror.

.-. .-. .-.

I jumped back from the vision, utterly horrified. _That can't be real, can it? Can people really just face enslavement for no reason when they die? What kind of justice or fairness is there in that? I mean... I guess there doesn't have to be any, but still... can the afterlife really be that horrible?_

… … … ...

Paul felt utterly drained and sore, but he was almost there. With a herculean effort, he grabbed the window sill and pulled himself up. He collapsed in Hannah's room, triumphant and exhausted.

After a moment of rest, he pushed himself up and looked around the room, looked at the bed where he'd lost his virginity to the angel that was laying there... and closed his eyes, unable to deal with the sight that greeted him now.

He'd seen her after she was sick, but seeing her dead, covered in vomit and blood, that dead glassy look in her eyes, it was all just too much. He composed himself again, and opened his eyes once more, refusing to look at Hannah's corpse. The first thing he saw was Lucius, standing over her, staring into her eyes. He cried out, and was once again ignored.

"He can't hear you," a gravelly voice informed him. Paul looked and saw a hooded figure in tattered rags holding a rusty blade and chains, looking for all the world like the reaper. "He's on the other side of the veil that separates the living and the dead. It's thin here, because of all the death, but he still can't hear you unless you can Embody."

"He's heard me before," Paul replied. "Besides, he's not quite living. He's one of the undead."

"That so? Well, maybe he's just distracted. He seems busy with something. So am I. She's almost on this side." He turned around, facing away from Paul. Paul walked around him, trying to see what he was staring at.

In the center of the room, there was some kind of embryonic sac attached to the floor. It was translucent and incorporeal, but becoming more solid by the moment. Paul's eyes widened in shock, and he stammered, "What the hell is that thing?"

The figure chuckled. "You're new to this whole death thing, aren't you? That thing, is that woman's soul, coming through to this side. Do you remember what it was like when you first died? Before you woke up and things started making sense?"

"I... yeah. It was this weird dream, where I kept seeing snatches of my life, and relived my death over and over. I didn't realize I'd died, until..."

"Until someone woke you up, let you out." Paul nodded. The first solid memory he'd had was being summoned by Lucius. "That's what I'd doing. I'm going to cut open that sack – it's called a caul, like the birthing sack, only for your birth into death. I'm going to set her free."

Paul nodded, taking this all in. "Could I be the one to do it? Hannah... she meant a lot to me in life. I'd like to be the one to bring her into death."

The figure chuckled again. "You have anything to cut that sack? Nails and teeth won't do it."

Paul looked around and saw a knife lying on a nearby table. He tried to pick it up, but it didn't move. The Reaper laughed at him, mocking him. "You're an idiot! Even you should know you can't use stuff from the skinlands in this world. Only relics are solid here. Things that had emotional meaning that have been destroyed show up here, an echo of what they once were. Of course, you can always do what I did, and just buy a soulforged tool." He held up the blade and Paul could see a nasty smile from within the shadows of his hood.

"Soulforged?" Paul asked, trying to make sense of everything that was being thrown at him.

The Reaper smirked. "Never mind, I don't have time to teach newly dead enfants. She's almost here." At his words, the embryonic sack solidified, and Paul could see the shadowy figure of a woman inside, curled up in the fetal position.

A moment later, the Reaper shoved his blade into the organic skin of the sack, and sliced it open from top to bottom. Thick blue ectoplasm started leaking out, identical to the substance he'd bled from his corpus. The Reaper ripped the Caul open, and the ectoplasmic syrup leaked everywhere, revealing a kneeling, shivering, naked figure – Hannah. The thick liquid of her second birth dripped off her, covering her, and she looked up with wide, confused eyes – until her eyes met his. Her mouth widened into a bright smile, and Paul felt elated as hope and love filled her gaze, and she uttered a single word, "Paul?"

Then the Reaper clamped his shackles onto her wrists, and she looked up at him and screamed, terror written on her face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Paul screamed, rushing at the Reaper – who calmly swung his blade and took off Paul's head.

The world spun around, disorienting and chaotic, as his head fell to the ground and rolled. Paul watched his headless corpus stumble around, as he tried to get it to find him. He watched, in utter horror, as the Reaper held up a key and ordered her to, "Be quiet!" Hannah immediately went silent. "That's better. Now, as I just showed you, as long as I hold the key to your shackles, you have to obey me. You have no choice. You belong to me now. You're my slave. Get used to the idea, because you're never going to be set free. The big authority around here, the Hierarchy, doesn't give a shit about you and your rights. Hell, they created the practice of enslaving souls, going all the way back to the Roman Empire. So just accept your place, and deal with it."

"No!" Paul screamed. "I won't let this happen!"

The Reaper turned to him and laughed. "And what exactly do you plan on doing, hero? I don't know if you noticed, but you have nothing, and I've had centuries of practice with this blade."

Paul saw Lucius pull away from Hannah's body, no longer staring into her eyes. He blinked, shook his head, and started to walk away. Paul oriented his body enough to have it wander over to his head, and focused on Embodying himself, making himself visible across the void.

It took every ounce of will, but he pushed through and appeared in the land of the living – barely. The Reaper laughed, mocking him. "You call that an Embodiment? That's pathetic. Just quit now, before you burn up all your Pathos, kid."

Paul refused to accept this, and called out. "Lucius!"

Lucius finally turned and faced him. He started, commenting, "Oh, hey. I was trying to reach you earlier. Um, what happened to your head?"

Paul had his body carefully reach down and pick up his head, placing it back on his neck, and concentrating on repairing his corpus, making him whole. "It was cut off by this spirit – he's trying to enslave Hannah!"

"Oh, him." Lucius sounded so cavalier, so apathetic. "Yeah, I saw him in Hannah's death-vision."

"You have to help her! You can't let this happen!"

Lucius just shrugged. "What can I do? She's dead. I can't feed her my blood and make her a ghoul. What do you suggest?"

"I... I don't know! Embrace her! Make her into a Vampire!"

Lucius just scowled. "Absolutely not. Embracing without permission got my sire killed. I'm not making the same mistake. The Prince of LA already wants me dead as it is. I'm not giving him an excuse to have me killed – again. And she might be killed with me, and Final Death means the soul dies with the body."

Paul felt utterly helpless, felt consumed by despair. "There has to be something you can do! Summon her, like you did me!"

Lucius just shrugged. "What would that do? She'd still be shackled and enslaved. It would just be a waste of blood. I'm really sorry, but there's nothing I can do." He turned around to walk down the stairs, out of the apartment, abandoning Hannah.

Paul ran after him, refusing to accept failure, refusing to abandon hope. He focused all his will into his Embodiment, shining through like a spirit of vengeance, making sure his words echoed with all the hate that burned inside him. "Lucius, if you don't help Hannah, I swear I will haunt you for all of your undead existence, preventing you from feeding, betraying you at every key moment, shoving you into Final Death at every opportunity. If you want to save yourself, you must save Hannah!"

Lucius turned around, cold fury burning in his eyes. "I've exorcised spirits before. I only need to destroy objects important to the spirit." He pulled Paul's finger from his pocket and threw it on the ground. "I imagine everything you cared about is in your apartment downstairs, right? Then it's simple. I just kill the cops there, set this place on fire, and walk away. I don't know what will happen to you without these things, and I don't care. I just know you won't be able to harm me. I'm sorry it has to be this way, I really am, but I have to look out for myself." With that, he stomped Paul's finger, crushing it into a dark stain on the floor, and turned around, exiting Hannah's apartment.

Paul ran forward, furious and terrified, panicking as he realized that his plan had completely backfired, that he'd fucked up beyond his wildest nightmares. But the door was closed before he reached it, and once again he found it to be frustratingly solid. He slammed his fist into the wood, tears now streaming down his face. _This can't be happening! There has to be something, anything I can do!_

_**No, there doesn't. Sometimes, things just suck, and there's nothing you can do. You failed. You fucked things up worse than if you'd sat and done nothing. Congratulations, fool.**_

Desperate, he turned around and ran up the stairs, his heart sinking as he heard what the Reaper was saying to Hannah.

"Now, for a hot thing like you, I think I could make more money working you on the corner than selling you. Yeah... a whore in life, a whore in death. After all, there are many a soul looking for a quick thrill, the simulation of what they loved in life. Sex among the dead doesn't even compare to what it was like in life, but the dead are so desperate, they'll take a shadow of an echo over nothing. Well, except for the ones that can inhabit one of the living, skinriding them, feeling everything they feel, getting to experience all the sensations of life. But they're the exception, not the rule. For the rest of us... well, there's whores like you."

"Shut up!" Paul screamed. "Don't you ever call her a whore! Don't you dare!"

The Reaper laughed. "Kid, you need to get over yourself. That's what she was. Speak freely, slave. Tell him the truth."

Hannah looked over to Paul, shame in her eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I never told you. I was embarrassed. I mean, you were such an old school romantic, I didn't want to ruin your fantasy, but... yeah, that's how I paid the rent."

"God, Hannah, I knew the whole time! You don't remember, your mind got wiped, but you told me before. I'm fine with it! I really am! I never brought it up because I thought you were embarrassed. But, but I mean... I meant something to you, right? You told me, you said no one had ever treated you the way I had, you told me you loved me, that you wanted to move in with me, run away from your life with me. I was special to you, right?"

There were tears in her eyes, and she looked at him with pity. "I mean... I thought you were, for awhile. I was telling the truth, when I said no one had ever been that romantic. It was fun for awhile, but... I'm sorry, Paul. In the end, you were just another guy, you just paid me in dinner and gifts instead of cash. I've played to all kinds of fantasies, and that's all our 'relationship' was, another fantasy. I enjoyed it a lot more than other guys, if that makes you feel any better. And if it's any consolation, I really don't mind what my new master has in mind for me. I didn't mind my job in life, I'm used to it, you know? It's probably not that bad in death... So don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just... go live your life, or be dead, or whatever. It's ok."

Paul felt his mind crack, felt the core of his being scream in horror and agony as the primary thing that had kept him going was revealed to be a lie, an utter lie. He couldn't handle this. "No. No, no, no, no, no! He'd making you say this. You don't mean it. It can't be true!" And as his mind snapped, Paul flew into an insane rage.

He charged forward, tackling the Reaper, knocking him to the ground. On top of him, he pummeled him, smashing in his face over and over, reveling in the feeling of ectoplasm leaking between his fingers, finally feeling hope, feeling like he could make a difference, like he could beat this guy, until-

The blade sliced his arm clean off. He stared at the wound in shock for a moment, but a moment was all the Reaper needed. He shoved Paul off him roughly, causing him to fall back onto the ground. The Reaper stood over Paul, glowering down at him, raising the blade. Paul tried to move, tried to escape, but he felt his Shadow overcome him, drain him of energy, make him just give up, accepting the utter pointlessness of it all...

The blade came down, over and over, cutting him up. He no longer knew how many parts of him there were. His head was sliced in half, and his two eyes saw two warped and disconnected images. His mind reeled, unable to handle this, unable to handle the sight of Hannah naked and shackled, accepting of her servitude, his one love a whore, and he had meant nothing to her, and _Oh god I just want to die again, just to disappear forever..._

And in answer to his desire, he once again sank into the ground, pulled down by the dark force of despair and oblivion, and the last words he heard, the last thought in his head, was his Shadow, saying, _**I told you so...**_

… … … … ...

Paul felt himself falling slowly, almost floating. He felt immersed in some thick, syrupy, ice-cold liquid. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to smell or taste – the only sensation was of the cold liquid. All else was void. He was in pieces, small pieces, and falling apart into smaller and smaller pieces, slowly disintegrating. And his mind... screaming inside his skull, unable to bear the horror of what he'd just witnessed, unable to believe that he'd failed, that it was to late, Hannah was lost to him forever. _How? I tried so hard... how can this happen? How can God, or the universe, or whatever, allow this kind of horror, this kind of evil to happen? She didn't deserve this, she didn't-_

_**Didn't she? After all, you talk about God. Didn't the Bible say something about whores going to hell? Maybe this was all written in stone. Maybe there was never anything you could do. Maybe, just maybe, you've just been making yourself miserable by thinking you could make a difference. Just sit and accept it all. It's not so bad, just resting and accepting. You don't have to do anything, just let the world fall apart. It's not your responsibility, it never was...**_

And so Paul simply slipped away into memory, trying to hide from the despair and shame that now filled his existence. He thought back... to when he actually made a difference, to when he seemed to be changing the world...

.-. .-. .-. .-.

Paul stood up, incredulous that he was still alive. "How-"

"I can explain later," his savior interrupted. "For now, all you need to know is that my name is Mazoline, I am a vampire, and my blood saved you from death, just as the blood of another vampire allowed this man to take a bullet without flinching. Do you wish to save these people?" Paul nodded, stunned by all this. "Then take my hand, we have little time." Paul grabbed her outstretched hand, ready to follow her anywhere. "Hold on tight," was the last thing he heard before his arm was nearly yanked out of its socket.

The world flew by, a blur. Ten seconds later, he was next to a sleek motorcycle. He took a moment to get his bearings, and realized he was about three blocks down. He felt dizzy. "How-"

"Just get on. I'll explain on the way."

For once in his life, Paul just did as he was told and didn't ask questions. Mazoline started the bike and flew off into the night, speeding past all other vehicles, riding along the lane line when there was traffic, moving through LA at breakneck pace.

Paul was still trying to understand how he'd ended up here, what was happening. "So why are you helping me?"

"Because I believe in freedom. The vampire who ordered that monstrosity in the warehouse would make himself kind over our kind. His mortal puppets would enslave the mortals, and thus destroy freedom among the living and undead. I'm part of a movement that fights against it. We have a common enemy, though you only saw the surface appearance of a far deeper war up until now. But your heart is in the right place, and I believe that you will be willing to aid the Anarch cause."

_Anarch... I like the sound of that._ "But I mean... why do you need me? And why did you let this kind of thing go on?"

"We didn't even know about it until now. One of our contacts in your friend Ryan's underground newspaper informed us about what was going on. I decided to investigate. Thanks to you, this story is going to shake the Kindred community to its core. LaCroix has taken the whores and bums off the street, and they are the primary source of blood among those of our kind who aren't wealthy or influential enough to buy it from a blood bank or have a herd of willing donor. In other words, he's taken the food source of the lower class vampires. And instead, he's created a monopolistic system, where he controls all the blood, and he can distribute it to his hearts content. If the sheer inhumanity of this crime doesn't outrage the undead population of this city, his attempt to control the blood supply will."

Paul shook his head, flabbergasted by this all. _Class warfare, among the living and undead... Even when things get weird and strange, somehow they still stay the same._

Mazoline abruptly hit the breaks and turned sharply, pulling up on a concrete fortress called 'The Last Round.' She parked it and headed inside, silently beckoning Paul to follow. Inside, she immediately headed for a steel door at the back, while gesturing for him to sit, saying, "wait here." Paul parked himself on a barstool as she disappeared into the back, buying himself a drink to pass the time.

A few minutes later, Paul was summoned into the back. He found himself facing a group of five vampires, whose names he would soon learn: Skelter, Mazoline, Damsel, Jack, and Nines. The Anarchs.

It was Nines who spoke. "You probably got a lot of questions, and we don't have a lot of time, so let me get to the point. I've been fighting against privilege and oppression since the Great Depression. The Camarilla is what we're fighting against, more or less. They're an ancient elders club going back centuries. The undead suckers running it thing newfangled ideas like 'democracy' are radical and dangerous. They believe in princes and pledges of loyalty and blood. They've run the world since time out of mind, manipulating governments and nations as part of ancient rivalries and plots. We're the ones that won't take that shit. There are a few of us, like Jack here, who have been fighting this fight for centuries, but most of us are young. So, the long and short of it is – we're giving you the chance to be a part of the real fight for freedom. The one that's going to actually change things. But you're going to have to be a part of our group, our movement. I wish I could give you more time, but like I said, the clock is ticking. So what do you say?"

Paul was swept up in the epic nature of the struggle that had just been revealed to him. Here, at long last, was the real truth. The real struggle. This was what he'd been looking for his whole life. "I say yes. I'm ready to blow this whole thing wide open, show the people the truth about what's going on, and help overthrow the power structure."

Nines smiled. "Ambitious. I like it. One thing, though – we can't reveal the existence of vampires. Just can't. See, you're taking it well, but the majority of humanity would hunt us down and kill us. That's how the Camarilla keeps its power, through fear that if they lose control, the secret will get out. They use that fear to get the rest of our kind to bow down. If we try and blow that story open, the vampires of LA will turn against us and stand by the Camarilla, no matter what they do. They'll make sure the story never gets out, killing whoever they have to in order to maintain the Masquerade, as its called. But that doesn't mean we can't blow this open. See, we can expose the truth among the undead of this city... and we can break some kind of story to the public. Not what actually happened, but something horrible, something that will bring down LaCroix's pawns in the government of this city. But our existence has to be kept secret. You understand? Telling that to the world won't change anything, won't actually let the world know. Maybe... maybe one day the world can be ready for that. But right now, you have to trust me when I say we can't do this. You okay with that?"

Paul nodded, immediately seeing the logic behind this. It wouldn't be until much later that it would occur to him that it was unusual that he accepted the need for secrecy so easily, after a lifetime of insisting on exposing the truth, consequences be damned. He was so caught up in the glory of this new cause, this new struggle. Nines seemed to shine with a glorious light – here was the hero of a revolution, the true revolution. He was ready to follow this man to the ends of the earth, into whatever battlefield he was needed in to change the world. He nodded.

"Okay, glad you're on the same page. So here's what we're going to do..."

Half an hour later, Mazoline was pulling up to the warehouse, Paul on the back of her cycle. They both stood outside the entrance of the warehouse, which was now closed and locked. Paul had been given a bulletproof vest, which now sat under a black trenchcoat. Inside his jacket, he had a semiautomatic weapon, given to him by Nines. He'd also been given reflective shades that didn't actually darken the night – "In case they try to Dominate you," Mazoline had said, telling him that as long as a vampire couldn't make eye contact, he'd be safe. _I feel like freakin' Neo in this outfit. In fact, this whole night had been weirdly reminiscent of that new movie... making me wonder if it wasn't some kind of expose..._

Damsel pulled up in a beat up pickup truck, armed men filing the truck bed. The quickly jumped out, each of them holding a fully automatic weapon, covered in tactical gear. Damsel hopped out, carrying a fully automatic Mossberg shotgun. She threw a cigarette butt into the gutter, before announcing, "Let's do this!" blowing the lock off the door and kicking it in.

The gunfire started as soon as she entered the building. Screaming, she walked directly into the bullets, throwing a flashbang into the middle of the chaos. Damsel's team filed in after her, returning fire. Mazoline and Paul stood at the entrance, guarding the door against backup. They closed the door once their people were inside, shutting in the sound, standing there without obvious weapons in hand, maintaining some appearance of normalcy.

An old VW beetle pulled up to the door, and an older man in a lab coat with wild, frizzy white hair and thick spectacles hopped out, some kind of elaborate geometric steel cage-like hat on his head, a hat containing all kinds of strange blinking lights. "Dr. Emmet White, at your service. I hear the revolution of the mind requires me?"

Mazoline just nodded, saying, "Yeah, let me make sure everything is ok inside." She pulled out a walkie-talkie and called in, asking, "Is everything under control?"

About ten seconds later, Damsel's voice replied. "It is now. Mostly cop ghouls, but there was this one little Ventrue snob running the show. Thought he was hot shit til he realized we all had anti-Dominate glasses on. Then the little bitch tried pulling Presence on us, as though we aren't better at that shit than he is. Once he realized he wasn't going to make us obey, little bitch started panicking, throwing his human pawns in the way and tried to run. I ran right up to him and ripped off his head with my bare hands. Haven't had this much fun in a while. But yeah, it's all clear."

Mazoline nodded and opened the door. There were lights on now, so everything could be seen clearly. The place was full of dead cops, blood splattered all over the shipping containers. Paul saw Damsel standing over a cop that was lying on the ground, begging for mercy. She blew out his brains at point blank range with her shotgun, a wicked smile on her face. She turned to Mazoline. "God, I love my job. So, we got the trucks ready?"

Mazoline pulled out the walkie-talkie again, asking, "Eta?"

"Ten minutes," piped back.

Damsel nodded, then screamed loud enough to echo off the walls. "Listen up! We got ten minutes to secure the containers! Each of you, ready the hitches. I'm going to open up the shipping doors. We're going to move these people out of here. Except for the one that's open. We have a special team on that." She turned back to Mazoline, Paul, and the weird Doctor. "You know what to do. Get on it."

They headed over to the place he'd confronted Chief Parks, the place he'd died and been reborn. Parks was gone, but the prisoners remained. Paul ran over to Hannah, and started setting her free. It was too weird, pulling the feeding tube out of her throat, unhooking the her mechanical diaper, pulling the IV needle out, and finally unhooking the shackles, setting her free. He gently lowered her to the ground, as she shook uncontrollably, her body wracked by sobs.

"Th- th- thank you. Thank you so much, Paul. I'll never forget you, I swear."

"Funny you should say that," Dr. White interrupted, "because I need you to come over here, quickly." Hannah looked to Paul, who nodded, knowing she'd be happier not remembering this nightmare. She walked over to him, trying to hide her nakedness. Mazoline handed her a dirty and stained dress, part of a trash bag of clothing they'd pulled from an alley. After dressing herself, she walked over to the strange vampire. She looked wretched, pale, thin, sunken eyes, ragged clothing – like something out of an 1800s painting of the poor. "Alright, now please look directly into my eyes, I just need to make sure you're..." and with that, all the lights on his helmet flashed simultaneously. Hannah's pupils contracted, then dilated. He stared into her eyes, muttering something under his breath, then told her matter of factly, "Step over there, ignore everything, stand still." She did as she was told, looking for all the world like a zombie.

They repeated the process for everyone in the shipping container. They all stood in rags in a corner, staring off into nothing. All around them, frantic activity moved. Trucks drove in through the shipping door, connecting up to the containers, driving away with them. The bodies of the cops were being thrown into the containers, while blood was scrubbed off the containers and floors. Paul and Mazoline carefully handcuffed the freed prisoners to a railing, while they meekly complied. Soon the warehouse was empty, except for the handcuffed prisoners and the three of them.

Mazoline's walkie talkie buzzed. "You got ten until the cops arrive. Our people are in charge of the response to this call."

Mazoline turned to Dr. White. "You put in the memories we told you to, right?"

He nodded, grinning maniacally. "Of course! I know when its time to be creative, and when its time to be professional. I have my reputation as scientist and psychologist on the line, to say nothing of the needs of the revolution of the mind! I inserted memories of forced prostitution or working in sweatshops, all horrible but dull and in keeping with the great delusion we call the Masquerade. And all done under the direct supervision of the police. I made sure that detail stuck out in their mind. Deviously brilliant!"

Paul smiled, glad to know that this scandal would tear down the government of this city. He'd done it. He'd had to sign up with some weird allies, but he'd done it. The power structure would never recover.

Well, it wasn't quite as clear-cut as that. Paul had left, then returned to the scene ten minutes after the police arrived. The Anarch contacts in the force had escorted him in, let him get pictures – he already had names and mugshots of all the prisoners, he just needed direct evidence of their imprisonment and mistreatment. After getting a few shots and statements from the cops on his side, he was escorted out, to Ryan's underground newspaper, literally in a run-down basement underground.

Paul entered the office at the back, to find Nines and Mazoline already there. Nines had spoken to Ryan, and had swayed him over to his side, feeding Ryan his blood. He'd agreed not to run the true story, instead running the Masquerade-friendly version they'd created. He'd turned the video over to Nines, who was going to use it in a far more important public forum. But for now... the story needed to break.

Paul sat down at his new desk, working on an old machine still running Windows 95, carefully composing his masterpiece, pulling up the article he'd written and the one that had been started when they were going to run the real story. He combined and distilled them, creating a piece that would have to ignite public outrage. He had all the pieces – the missing persons report, the info of the people found there, the police statements at the scene, and most of all, the grizzly photos of the handcuffed victims that looked like a third-world nightmare. They'd been sure to make them people look as desperate and pathetic as possible for those shots. It was just a matter of assembling everything, the interviews that put a human face on it, the facts that told the story, the sense of horror and mystery – who were these people, what had happened to them after being arrested? Their stories wouldn't be told until follow-up interviews – this was just supposed to be the spark that ignited the flame.

It would have taken forever if most of the work hadn't already been done. As it was, it still took a couple hours, but he was fully satisfied. He knew this would start the mother of all shitstorms. He printed it out and handed it to Ryan, who read it and looked it over, carefully scanning each page. Ryan looked up at him, impressed for the first time in forever – this man was unflappable, normally had a stoic mask at all times. "This has some real punch. This is going to scare people shitless. Your talents were wasted at your job. We've needed you for years."

Paul smiled, embarrassed and grateful. "C'mon, you give me too much credit. But thanks. I hope it's as good as you say. Even with everything we've got together, it's hard for an underground newspaper to make any waves."

Ryan nodded, but then said, "I think after this, we're not going to be so underground anymore. Hell, we might even be able to start paying staff. Anyway, you go home and rest. I've got to make sure we have enough hard copies printed to get this on every street corner. With luck, this will be the last free issue... but we're going to give this away to as many people as we can, that picture and your article on the front page."

The effects were immediate and dramatic. Over the course of the next day, the media at first denied and ridiculed it, then when the police report came in started questioning and trying to come up with their own explanation. Parks made the mortal mistake of trying to deny everything, only to have the Anarch officers come forward and repeat their stories, this time hinting that these people had suffered due to the actions of Parks and some of their fellow officers. Parks once again screwed up, putting those officers on disciplinary leave, trying to hold the victims found at the scene of the crime, deny them access to the press.

Then night fell. Mazoline simply wandered into the station with Nines. A few words and thirty minutes later, all the prisoners were being released. The mainstream press hadn't known this was happening, and so Paul got first dibs on all the interviews. He made sure Hannah was the highlighted story. It was weird, talking to her, knowing her, and yet she had no recollection of him. But it didn't matter. He was determined to help her. Their stories were plastered all over their web version of the paper, an emergency update, with promises of more details and a shocking reveal in a special print edition that would be out the next day. Then Nines brought Paul to an old, abandoned theater downtown.

The undead were assembled in the audience, and Paul was up on stage, on the left wing. He saw Parks, in full dress uniform, on the right wing of the stage. In the center, facing the audience, just to the left and right of dead center, respectively, was Nines Rodriguez and a blonde vampire in a perfectly pressed suit he'd been told was Prince LaCroix.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," LaCroix began. "I am sorry to disturb your business tonight, but you have perhaps heard of the recent scandal sweeping the mortal media. I have been briefed on the situation by the Chief of Police, and-"

"I bet you have," Nines interrupted. "Before LaCroix stinks up the building with his bullshit, I'm going to tell you what's happened. This reporter, here, Paul, stumbled on to something monstrous LaCroix has been pulling under cover of cleaning up the city, something so sick it even turned my stomach. I could tell you... but I may as well show you."

Mazoline wheeled out a huge flatscreen television on a stand with a vcr hookup up, as LaCroix protested. "Mr. Rodriguez, this is completely against protocol, and while I'm certainly more than willing to give you your chance to speak, it is considered rude to interrupt-"

"I don't give a damn!" Nines screamed. "We've got you now. You can try and suppress evidence all you want in the name of protocol. The assembled Kindred of this audience _will_ see the truth, whether you deign to allow it or not. Try and stop me. See what happens, LaCroix."

LaCroix simply straightened his tie, saying, "Well, it seems Mr. Rodriguez, as usual, is choosing to allow passion to dominate over reason and decency. So be it. I will indulge you. Indeed, I am in fact genuinely curious about what you have to show us that you believe to be so important. Go right ahead."

Paul's video played, and the audience gasped in unison when he showed Hannah, hooked up to the infernal life support and blood-draining machine. They gasped again when Parks appeared on screen, claiming responsibility. They sat in stunned silence when the video ended.

Nines broke the silence. "And before LaCroix can claim that this video was doctored, I'd like to invite anyone who's unconvinced to go to the east entrance. We've parked one of the storage containers by the door. You can go and see these people, hooked up to the machine, touch them, know that this is real." Most of the audience got up and left – Paul could see that the only ones remaining seemed older, and had sent someone else to look at the evidence for them.

LaCroix responded, saying "I must say, this is quite shocking." He turned to Parks. "How do you answer to this?"

Parks swallowed, saying, "I... I acted under orders from my master."

Nines screamed to the audience. "See! This was LaCroix's plot all along, just like I told you! He's trying to take away blood from the poor, control the supply, make us go through him to feed!"

LaCroix sat through the diatribe, emotionless. He turned back to Parks. "And which Kindred do you serve?"

"Reginald Thompson."

"And is Mr. Thompson in the audience here?"

Parks nodded. "Yeah, right there, in the front row." He pointed to a vampire dressed in a pinstripe Armani suit, with perfectly pressed jet-black hair. His eyes went wide and he held up his hands in protest.

"My Prince, I can explain-"

"You will explain," LaCroix announced, "not to me, but to your peers, your fellow Kindred, during your public trial for your crimes." Reginald got up, as though to leave, and a Giant, apelike vampire jumped down and jammed a wooden stake into his heart. He carried the scapegoat up onto stage, dropping him at LaCroix's feet. "How disappointing. I entrusted you with management of the police department of this city, and you used it for your own profit and advancement, to the detriment of all our kind. Clearly, my trust was misplaced. I apologize, to all assembled here, for my error. It seems I shall need to keep a more direct eye on things in the future."

Nines screamed, walking up to LaCroix, getting in his face. "You think anyone buys this dog and pony show bullshit? You were clearly responsible. I don't care if it was Reginald's blood in Parks' veins, he was loyal to you! You're just throwing him under the bus to avoid the responsibility yourself! Mark my words, LaCroix, we're going to pin this on you, one way or another. And if you think you can use this to take control of the police department yourself, you've got another thing coming. I'll die before I see anyone with a drop of your blood in control of the cops in this city. And I don't plan on dying without taking you with me."

LaCroix looked down his nose at Nines, as one would a petulant child. "I will forgive your threats, as succumbing to irrational anger and passion is the weakness of your clan, and you in particular, and also because this is such a dramatic and stressful situation. I should have expected you to automatically accuse me. But, as you have so often protested whenever one of your number is accused of a crime, how can one convict without evidence? I, of course, am a firm believer in a fair and just trial. The truth will be exposed. But there is not one shred of evidence to implicate me in this crime. However, as for the matter of the police department," he turned to the audience, "the question now is – what should be done? For we surely cannot leave such an important mortal institution out of our hands. If I should not be in charge, then who? You? It seems to me – and please, feel free to correct or interrupt me if you disagree, I'm sure you will regardless – but it seems to me, as though this institution is far too important to be in the hands of any one Kindred. Perhaps the ideal solution would be for myself, Mr. Rodriguez, all the Primogen, and all the major Barons – say, the top seven, as decided by Mr. Abrams or the Barony committee or however you wish to make the selection – should all have ghouls within the department. This will ensure universal monitoring and prevent any individual or group from using the Police for their own gain. Thus, we can ensure control when matters arise that affect us all, such as maintenance of the Masquerade, but nothing else. Does this seem reasonable to you, Mr. Rodriguez?"

Nines glowered at LaCroix, the tension so thick you could cut it. "It's better than it was before," he replied finally, his voice icy cold, "but I'd like to point out that this kind of shit never happened in the Anarch free state. This kind of horror only started once the Camarilla came in. And if you really want to make sure this never happens again, I think the solution is pretty obvious." And with that, he stormed off the stage.

Paul had felt crestfallen, until Nines had explained that he'd expected as much. "Of course LaCroix wouldn't make Parks his personal ghoul if he was trying to pull this kind of shit.. He needs deniability. That's what expendable subordinates are for. But this is still a victory. Thompson was extremely loyal, and almost a century old. The way he was so casually tossed under the bus – and everyone there knew that's what was happening, that he was taking this bullet for his Prince – it'll make others think twice about signing on with the Cam, since this is the reward for loyalty. And at least now we've wrestled the Police out from under his thumb. And if we play this right, we can make sure Riordan, who really is LaCroix's ghoul, is no longer mayor. So yeah, the war goes on, but we've won this battle."

And Nines was right. The scandal forced Parks to resign in disgrace, even though he avoided legal responsibility for the kidnappings, claiming 'rogue elements' in the police force had caused this. It called into question the 'tough on crime, law and order' policies Riordan had pursued since the 1992 riots, which had swept him into office. It caused him to not try and seek reelection that year, and even his selected successor didn't make it into office. In the end, it was a man who had no connection to any Kindred who took office, which was a victory for the Anarchs, since that was one less pawn LaCroix controlled. Ryan's newspaper took off after the story, and Paul had a job again. The newspaper became a key tool of the Anarchs, exposing public corruption and fighting for the people. They also published an even more 'underground' paper, one only circulated among those 'of the blood,' doing the same thing as the mortal version, just talking about things that had to be kept quiet from the public. And Paul had become the lead investigative reporter. Whenever oppression reared its ugly head, whenever the Camarilla or its servants stepped over the line, Paul was there, digging up the truth, fighting for the people.

His pride and joy, though, was the way he'd helped Hannah rise up from the streets. His interview with her led to her doing the rounds on various talk shows, earning enough money to move into a nicer place, close to downtown but affordable... in other words, Paul's apartment complex. He'd stayed in contact with her, watching over her, helping her rise above her circumstances. Situated with a place downtown, she'd risen up to the status of call-girl, establishing herself, becoming... comfortable. She was a personal example of the way he was helping the downtrodden... and so he'd fallen in love with her, head over heels, lost his virginity to her, dreaming that one day they might even get married... a dream that had died with him.

.-. .-. .-. .-.

_And yet... even in death, dreams don't have to die. I pulled her out of hell before... Maybe, just maybe, I could still help her._

_**Are you completely moronic? You slip back into these dreams and start deluding yourself into thinking you can make a difference. She's gone. The harder you try, the harder it's going to be for you. Do you really want to see Hannah? It's been years, she's probably used up and gone by now...**_

_Yes. I don't care. I have to help her. I have to..._

… … … … ... ...

Paul woke up on the streets of LA, right where he'd disappeared into the ground. Things were no longer as decrepit as they'd been after he'd fallen into the ground. Buildings were still on the verge of collapse, everything still smelled of rot, black smoke still billowed out of the sewers and the cracks in the streets, but that was all normal for shadowlands LA. The living went about their daily business, oblivious to the dead who walked the streets beside them.

Paul stood up, and a car drove right through him, making him sore all over. He turned insubstantial, and walked out of the middle of the street. _How long have I been asleep here? And where is Hannah?_

_**Try the streets of downtown, where she used to turn tricks. I'm sure her new master is pimping her out where he can attract the most customers...**_

Paul ran downtown, then started carefully searching. He saw many ghosts going about their nightly business, he saw the dead police force, the legionnaires dressed in traditional roman armor, short swords at their sides, some carrying old 18th and 19th century guns, too. He saw peddlers, selling strange wares on streetcorners, but no sign of Hannah, no sign of-

"You feeling down and dead? Can't remember what it felt like to be alive? Well I've got a little slice of life for you here. Cheap lay, only one obolus for a go, won't find cheaper rates anywhere in LA! C'mon, live a little! Hahaha!"

There he was, the wretched being in rags that had taken Hannah. He had a small booth next to him, just enough room for two people to lie down, with curtains hanging down over what he could only suppose was a mattress. Hannah sat up on the mattress, barely covering herself with the curtain, though he could barely recognize her. She looked the way she had after coming out of the machine – pale, emaciated, eyes sunken, devoid of hope. _God, she looks like a corpse._

Two men walked up off the street, one looking like a normal human, the other a bloated monstrosity covered in boils leaking pus. The normal-looking one handed the Reaper a coin, and Hannah lay back on the the bed, now covered by the curtains. The man plastered a wicked grin on his face, then went beneath the curtains as well. The bloated freak stood by, waiting in line.

Paul wanted to cry, to puke, to rage and kill these spirits. But he knew he had to think carefully if he was going to save Hannah. He walked up casually, acting like he was getting in line. He saw the massive freak flip his coin in the air, then catch it. The face on the coin was actively weeping, making small crying sounds.

"Does all the money cry like that," he asked.

"Nah, just some of em. The souls that won't accept what they are, I guess. I'll be glad to spend this coin, it's been annoying me all day."

Paul felt his heart sink, as he realized what had just been said. "Are you telling me the money here is made from souls?"

The monstrosity laughed. "Everything is! Nothing is solid to the dead, except relics... and souls. So old Charon, way back in the day, figured out how to melt down a soul, forge it into things like swords and armor and chains. That' how he founded Stygia, and the Hierarchy, and all this! Every coin is made from a single soul."

Paul shuddered, sick to his stomach, feeling light-headed. "Who gets melted down?"

"Anyone that pisses off the law. You piss em off a little, they enslave you. You piss em off a bunch, they give you the death sentence and send you to the forges."

The man crawled out from under the curtain. His friend commented, "Heh. That was quick."

He glowered at the freak. "Shut up. It's been awhile, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever. Hope you've got something to do, because I plan on being awhile." He tossed his crying coin to the Reaper, and moved over to the curtain. He couldn't quite make it up, and cried out, "A little help here!"

As the Reaper moved to help the pus-leaking, fat freak up, Paul saw the blade hanging from his waist, saw the key right next to it, and realized this was his chance. He deftly grabbed one in each hand, slipping them off the cloth sash that acted as a belt.

"What the-" was all the Reaper said before Paul cut off his head.

The fat monster roared, and Paul lashed out, hacking him apart, cutting the reaper apart, dismembering anyone and everyone. The Reaper screamed, "Help! Help me! This criminal attacked me! He's trying to steal my stuff, steal my slave! Legionnaires! Help me!"

Paul saw two of the muscled, well-armed guards heading toward him. He held the key and ordered Hannah, to "Run!" The two of them were off, sprinting down the street, leaving the pieces of Paul's victims behind.

The sprinted down the streets, the legionnaires screaming at them to stop. Paul held Hannah's hand, and pulled her into a side street. He kept sprinting, looking around for something, anything that could-

_There!_ He yanked Hannah into a nearby alley. It was filled with garbage. He pulled her behind a dumpster, and huddled there with her, shaking in exertion. _Please don't let them find us, please don't let them find us, oh god oh god please please please..._

He heard footsteps walk slowly into the alley. He held Hannah tightly and closed his eyes, hoping against hope he could stay hidden, hoping to God that somehow he could stay out of the soulforges and keep Hannah free.

He felt something envelop him... like shadow made solid. He looked up and saw the legionnaire stride into the alley. He took a look around, and looked right past Paul and Hannah, as though they weren't even there, before walking out into the street.

Once the footsteps faded into the distance, Paul cried in relief. He didn't know what he'd done, or how he'd done it, but somehow he'd kept them safe. He pulled Hannah into a hug, snuggling against her, whispering into her ear, "I never thought I'd see you again. I'm so glad I found you. We can be together forever now. I kept you safe all through your life, and I'll keep you safe now. I swear to you. I love you, Hannah. I don't care what you had to do in life or death, I'll always love you."

Hannah was crying now, he felt her ectoplasmic tears hit his cheek. "Oh god, you fool, you complete fool. What have you done, Paul? Why couldn't you just leave me be? You've fucked everything up!"

Paul pulled his head back from her, incredulous. "I just saved you! Don't tell me you want to go back to that?"

"Yes, I actually do! It wasn't that bad, really! He kept me fed with enough Pathos to get by, kept me safe. My life was stable! Sure, it was pretty dreary and miserable, the same thing day in and day out, but at least I knew I'd be safe! Now we're on the run from the law. If we get caught, we're probably going right to the soulforges! And that's if Oblivion doesn't find us... God, I wish you'd never found me!"

Paul felt the last dregs of hope slip out of him, felt his desire to exist at all fade away. "You don't mean that, tell me you don't mean that, you can't, our love has to mean something, please, please!"

Hannah just shook her head. "It never did. You can't keep me safe. You never could. I regret ever meeting you, Paul."

And with those last words, the light went out in his soul. Another dark hole opened up underneath them, sucking them down into the ground. Hannah screamed and tried to struggle out. Paul just sat there, surrendering as the darkness pulled them down.

… … … … … ... ...

They fell through the air, as hurricane speed winds buffeted them, sending them swirling in all directions. Torrential rain drowned them, though that was more an annoyance than anything else, since they couldn't breathe if they wanted to. Lightning split the sky, illumination the world for a moment – an endless sea, whipped into a froth by a terrible storm, stretching infinitely in all directions. They got one good glimpse of the tempest before plunging into it.

Paul almost let himself drift away. His shadow whispered to him, that every time he tried things got worse, that his existence was falling apart and there was no point in continuing to try... But he knew Hannah was still here. He'd lost his grip on her when they'd hit, and now... _Where is she? She still wants to exist. I have to help her, even if she hates me._

He swam to the surface, struggling to stay above the waves. Everything was pitch dark. He tried to call out Hannah's name, but a towering wave smashed into his face, drowning him out. He kept struggling against the waves, against the desire to give up and surrender. He was ready to slip away, back down into the depths, when another bolt of lightning lit the water.

_There!_ He saw her, desperately struggling to stay afloat. He swam over to her, putting every ounce of will into moving his arms and legs, trying to reach her. He was close to where she was, he was sure, but maybe she drifted, maybe she was-

He ran into her and wrapped his arms around her. She screamed and lashed out, trying to shake him off. "It's me! Paul!"

"What the fuck do you want? You dragged me down here, you asshole! What, do you want to drown me, too?"

"No! I want to help you!"

"Oh, thanks so much, you knight in shining armor! What exactly did you have in mind? I don't know if you noticed, but there's nothing but ocean forever here! We're trapped!"

Paul exhausted himself, trying to carry Hannah and keep them above the water. He had no idea what to do, and his Shadow taunted, dragging down his soul. _**Just give the hell up already! You're worse than worthless, you've only made things worse for her. If you really cared, you'd let go and sink beneath the waves. She can't be any worse off on her own than she is with you!**_

Paul shook his head, screaming at the darkness and his Shadow. "I won't give in, you hear me! I won't! I'm going to save her, you'll see you nihilistic little-"

Paul went dizzy as something solid smashed into his head, which was barely above the waves. He and Hannah sunk as he stopped treading water. He cleared his head and started moving up again, only to smack into whatever was floating on the water. He carefully navigated around it, finding the edge of some kind of rectangular raft. He grabbed the edge, pulling himself on top of the thing, still holding onto Hannah, and once securely on top, he pulled her up with all his strength.

At long last, they were both aboard. They fell onto their backs, exhausted. When Paul had the energy to form a thought, it was hurled in defiance at his Shadow. _Ha! I told you I could help her! See, things have to get better eventually!_

_**I wouldn't be so sure about that...**_

Paul sat up, right as lightning lit the sky again. He saw a massive whirlpool in the distance, and realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that the current was carrying them towards it.

"What the hell is that?" Hannah, shrieked, panic in her voice. "Oh God, I've heard about this. This is the Tempest, the raging chaos right above Oblivion itself! If you fall down any further... that's it! That's it forever! Death for the dead! Even worse than being soulforged! Oh my God, oh my God, Paul, you fucking asshole! I'm going to die forever because of you! What the fuck, why is this happening to me?"

"Calm down!" Paul shouted, in part to push down his own panic. "I have this under control. I just need to... to... to start paddling!" He started frantically trying to move the raft with his hands. It seemed so ineffective, so pointless, but, _Goddamnit, I have to try something!_

"Are you serious? I'm dead, I'm completely done for." Hannah sat on the raft, head in her hands, sobbing.

"C'mon, help me out here!"

"What's the point? I'm done for. Why be exhausted and miserable at the end?"

"Not you too!" Paul cried, desperately trying to avoid being dragged into that same despair. _Is her shadow making her give up, too? So I have to be strong for both of us. _

And so Paul denied the despair in his heart, even though all hope seemed lost, and continued paddling, continuing hoping that somehow, he could escape this hell and save Hannah.

… … … … … … ... ...

I sat in front of Hannah's body, circle drawn in chalk around her, circle drawn in blood on the mirror. I'd almost just walked away, but... that vision had sent shivers down my spine. I had to know if the afterlife was really that bad. _I mean, that has some really, really horrible philosophical implications, if souls are actually traded as slaves. Changes a lot. Makes me sort of feel obligated to rescue anyone I care about if they die. But can I even help her?_

I was about to find out. I entered the morbid meditative state, seeing through the shroud, summoning her soul, focusing on Hannah, on her name, her face, her essence, and...

She slowly appeared in the mirror. She was naked and dripping some kind of blue ichor. She was also crying and in shackles. She looked up at me, bewildered, crying, "Who are you? What's happening to me?"

"Um... my name is Lucius. We spoke earlier, like a night ago? I told you I was a doctor. Well... that was sort of a lie. See... I'm a vampire. And I've summoned you here with my blood because... well, Paul asked me to, and I saw what happened to you when you died. You're... enslaved? I mean... that's really, I don't know, fucked up. You just got nabbed as soon as you died?"

Hannah nodded her head, desperation in her eyes. "I know! I can't believe this! I never did anything in life to earn this! I just keep asking myself, why, why am I-" Her eyes suddenly went wide and she stared to my right, towards the door, screaming bloody murder.

I turned and focused my attention. I could see a vague aural outline moving into the doorway. Looking at an angle through the mirror, I could make out the translucent figure of the hooded Reaper I'd seen in Hannah's death-vision earlier. I saw him hold up a key, and I heard him command, though it was barely a whisper, "Come here!"

Hannah got up, as though to come to him, but she was stopped by an invisible barrier at the edge of my circle. "I can't!" she cried.

"What the..." the Reaper wandered over to the circle and tried to reach through it, to grab her. No such luck – the barrier was as solid to him as it was to her. "What the fuck is this?'

"This," I replied to the Reaper, "is me saving her soul. What makes you think you can just enslave someone when they die?"

He turned to me, genuinely surprised I could see him. "The fact that I can get away with it. Yeah, technically enslaving someone is illegal – only the hierarchy can do that, and only for crimes – though, they're pretty liberal about what constitutes a forgable crime. But you're not going to stop me. My shackles are on her, and I hold the key. How long can you keep this barrier up?"

I was about to ponder that question, when I saw something in the mirror. A dark hole, like the one Paul had fallen into, had appeared on the wall like a stain. A dark bulge started to push out of it, and then the darkness broke, and black hair pushed through. A moment later, Paul's head was sticking out of the wall. He looked around, bewildered, until he saw Hannah and the Reaper. Then his eyes filled with grim determination and deadly hatred. He closed his eyes in exertion, and slowly shoved his right arm through the hole. He reached around, bracing his hand against the wall as he pushed himself forward. He started grunting in exertion, and she shoved his left arm through. With a scream, he shoved himself forward, and he slid out of the hole, dropping to the ground, dripping wet.

All three of us stared at him, agape. Paul pushed himself to his feet. He seemed to stumble for a moment, but then he fixed his gaze on the Reaper. He didn't say a word. He just ran at him and dove at his knees, tackling him to the ground.

The reaper struggled under Paul, reaching to this waist, trying to pull out his blade. Paul grabbed his wrist, twisting it, breaking it. The Reaper screamed in pain and dropped the weapon. Paul grabbed it and began hacking away viciously, dismembering his opponent, screaming maniacally.

Another hole opened up, this time under the Reaper. He started falling into it, screaming for help, reaching out a hand. Paul took his hand – the one with the key. Then he hacked his hand off at the wrist, before stomping his face, sending him hurling down the dark hole.

The hole closed, and Paul stood there, blade in one hand, key in the other. He ran over to Hannah, only to run into the same invisible barrier the Reaper had. I pulled Paul's finger out and put in in the circle, on Hannah, and focused on summoning him. An instant later, he was in the circle with her.

"Oh Paul, thank God you came. I knew you'd save me, I just knew it!" Hannah threw her arms around him, and tears streamed down his face, absolute joy radiating from both of them. It was enough to warm my dead heart.

"I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you," Paul said as he unlocked her shackles, setting Hannah free. "But..." he turned to me. "I'm confused. I thought you abandoned us. I thought you destroyed my finger. I... I saw that monster make off with you, I saw years pass! And Hannah... you said you'd never loved me, that it was all a lie, that..."

"Oh Paul, I'd never! You've been the only man who's ever treated me decently, the only one I've ever really loved! You have no idea how much you mean to me! I swear, there's no one I'd rather spend eternity with!" She pulled him into a passionate kiss, so full of life and love I could almost forget the two of them were dead.

She finally released him, and he just smiled, utter joy written on his face. It took him a moment to turn to me. "I haven't seen you since you fell down that hole," I explained, quite curious about what had happened to him since he'd been gone. "I tried to communicate with you, but you were gone. So I came up here, looked into Hannah's eyes, saw that she was in danger, and so I summoned her. Then you came out of the wall and kicked that guy's ass. Nice work, by the way."

Paul shook his head, incredulous and delirious. "I... I guess it was all some kind of dream, or nightmare, or... I don't know. It felt real, completely real. I guess... well, I don't know what it was, but it was harrowing experience, that's for sure."

"Well," I continued, "I guess you're safe for now. I assume Hannah's going to be traveling with us, right? So I need a piece of her body," I said as I cut off one of her fingers. "Are we good?"

"Not quite," Paul replied. "The old man, the one I met on the street that started talking to me about being dead – he told me we're anchored here by things called Fetters, objects that keep us connected to existence. Hannah was one of mine, and when she died, I guess that's why I fell into that hole. It was hell. I want to make sure that never happens to either of us. So, Lucius, please, do you think you could gather those things up? Keep them safe for us?"

I sighed. _This is getting kind of tedious, but... meh, why the hell not?_ "Sure. Hannah, what's important to you around here?"

"Um... just my dreamcatcher and my book of spells, from my grandma. I wonder if she's out there, somewhere..."

"We can worry about that later," I responded. "Where are they?" She pointed them out to me, and I gathered the relics. "Okay, now Paul, its going to be a little trickier for you, since I'm pretty sure the cops are in your apartment now, but it's nothing I can't handle. Just tell me what to get, and I'll keep it safe. Oh, and while I'm down there, I could get an extra finger of yours, since Mazoline asked me to. Oh, wait. I don't think the Anarachs are talking to me again. Oh well. I'll just take another one of your fingers, anyway. Can't hurt to have a backup, I suppose."

… … … … … … ... ...

I walked through the dark streets, a slight jump to my step, knowing I was able to keep my friends safe. _Sure, I've pissed off most of the undead, but at least I'm popular among the dead! _I laughed to myself. Most importantly, I felt good about myself. For far too long, hunger and necessity had dictated my every action, and after almost refusing to help Hannah, I'd started to wonder about what kind of monster I was becoming. It was good to be reminded of the good I could still do. I just had to not let my bitter cynicism or the rage of the Beast take over...

I nearly ran right into her, the miserable, crying figure in the alley. I stepped back, startled, before deciding to engage in another act of benevolence. I knelt down, asking, "What's wrong?"

Patty looked up at me, tears making her mascara run. "Oh god, not you. I guess you hate me too, huh? You don't have to say anything. I know I'm pathetic. A walking disaster waiting to happen. You think I don't know? I wish it wasn't true, I wish I wasn't a fucking blood-addict, having to whore myself out just to get a fix. You know what it's like? Having to degrade myself like... but you don't care, do you? All you care about is that I'm a threat to your Masquerade. I know I am. I tried to lie to myself, but it's obvious. I mean, if I go even a night without blood, I start going crazy. I mean, heh, I've gotten better. Went almost three nights before I got you to feed me!" Then her eyes welled up with tears. "Only because no vampire would deal with me, would touch me. God, I'm fucking disgusting, aren't I?" She put her face in her hands, sobbing again. "Just go ahead and do it. I know Skelter told you to kill me. I'm too much of a problem. I knew I was living on borrowed time. Just... just do it quickly, ok?"

I felt... I felt like reaching out to her, like giving her a hug. And yet... _I did agree to kill her for Skelter. So casually, too. Like her life was just a minor detail, like it was nothing. So casually, shoved into hell or imprisonment or who knows what. What did she do to deserve it? It was her master that got her addicted to so much blood, her master that just abandoned her. Does he have to suffer? No, he gets to live forever. You know what? Fuck Skelter. Fuck that entire attitude of callousness towards death. I've seen what death is like, and it's way more fucked up than I imagined. I wouldn't wish that on anyone but the worst monster._

And so I made a fateful decision, then and there. "I'm not going to kill you."

Patty looked up at me, suspicion in her eyes. "What?"

I reached out my hand. "Here, get up."

She took it, her eyes growing wide, a desperate hope filling them. "I... I don't understand..."

"You said you're getting better, right? That you can go longer and longer without needing blood?"

She shifted from side to side, nervous. "I mean, yeah, I guess. It wasn't by choice, but yeah, I guess I've kind of had to get tougher."

I nodded. "Okay. Look, if you stay downtown, if you keep trying to score blood, you're going to get killed. You know that."

"I know, but... unless I have a sure supply, I've got to keep trying to find something, anything! You don't understand what it's like, I need it, I need your blood so badly!" She pressed herself up against me, pleading, "Please, I'll do anything, anything, just don't leave me! Don't let me starve!"

"Anything?" I asked. She nodded emphatically. "Okay. Go home. Don't try and get any blood from anyone for a week. Stay off the radar. Find something, anything else to do. I'll call you in a week. If you've stayed clean that whole time, I promise you, I'll feed you my blood."

"A week? I can't-"

"You can. You have to. No one will take you as a ghoul right now, you're too high-maintenance. We have to wean you down. I promise, I'll take care of you, but I have to know you have the willpower to do this. Okay?"

She looked into my eyes, tears welling up in hers again. She nodded. "Okay. I think... I think I can, as long as I know, I absolutely know you'll feed me at the end. You promise? You're not just trying to make me go away?"

I stared her dead in the eye. "I promise I will feed you my blood, if you promise you won't drink blood for a week."

She nodded. "I promise. I... thank you, Lucius. This... this is the kindest thing any vampire has ever done for me. I was just being used before, I knew it, but it felt so good, I just... I can stay clean for a week. I'll just go back to my old friends, maybe do a bunch of drugs to take the edge off or something."

I shook my head. _What am I getting myself into? I need a little insurance._ "Whatever it takes, just don't drink any vampire blood for a week. Here's my number. I'll call you when a week is up."

I walked her out of the alley, into the streets. I hailed a cab and paid for her fare. "Go home. Rest. Recover. Figure out what you want out of life. Because as I just found out, it's a lot more precious than we realize."

She nodded, then pulled me into a kiss. It wasn't like when she kissed me in the Confession – the was genuine passion, genuine affection in her. There was a warmth, a life, a love in there that I knew was more precious than the blood that ran in my veins. She let me go, and without a word I closed the cab door. I watched the cab drive away, proud of my kindness, scared of my recklessness, wondering if this was going to bite me in the ass. _Oh well. Getting screwed over being kind is better than getting screwed over anything else. It seems like life screws you over either way. You may as well just act in a way that lets you be proud of yourself. At least then you can take it all with dignity._


	35. Chapter 34: A Deal with a Devil

**Hello, all my loyal readers. It's been a year, and it's been a mad and strange year. I'm sorry to you all for making you wait so long. I appreciate all the new readers who have found my work over that last year, as well as the loyal ones who have no doubt been waiting impatiently for more of Lucius' journey. I don't know how impressive this chapter will be, but I've also been working on a side story about Paul and Hannah, which I will be posting shortly. I plan on running both stories parallel to each other, and I plan on posting updates to both far more frequently than I have been. I hope you enjoy this very, very delayed update to Lucius' unlife. Happy Haloween, everyone!**

_Well, what now?_ I wondered to myself as I sat on a bench on the side of the road, next to the spot where I'd put Patty in the cab.

I'd had little time for introspection since the disaster with Jezebel. I pulled a cigarette out of my pack and put it to my lips, looking forward to the familiar sensation. I pulled out my zippo and flicked the flame into life from nothingness. My creation startled me, making me jolt back in fear of death. The primal urge, to flee from flame, was so very... physical, so solid. As the fear faded, I laughed, enjoying the fear, enjoying the reality of it all. After the surreal adventure I'd just had, anything that could anchor me was welcome, even fear. I lit the death stick and inhaled, feeling the familiar burn, tasting the familiar taste. But the sensation... the ritual had been enough up until now, but I wanted that nicotine rush to remove the mild itching in the back of my mind. The chemical was stuck in dead lungs, and wouldn't be pumped to my dead brain by my dead heart. But I had living blood, blood that could animate my muscles if I wanted them to move – I was a corpse, but I had just a sliver of stolen life. I pumped my heart by hand, forcing the blood to carry my vice to my mind – and I felt like I was eighteen, smoking my first cigarette all over again. Light headed, I coughed, I laughed, relaxing for the first time in far too long.

It was all so... mundane. So normal. I felt... alive. And yet, as I was forced to pound my heart back into action, I was more acutely aware of my status as a corpse than I had been in a long time. _How long has it been since I just sat and thought about that whole mess? About what it's like to be alive and dead at once, it a strange limbo state that defies all laws of reality, scientific or mystical. When did I..._ My mind drifted back, to my shitty Santa Monica apartment, my haven – though it had never really felt that way – but that was the last place I'd thought about my new nature. I remembered the way I'd stumbled through the full realization of what I was, of my undead state. I remembered the way I'd stared out at the streets from my window, confused and angry, hungry and afraid to feed. It had been so confusing... _and so simple. No factions to play against one another, no elaborate political tightrope... a tightrope I've fallen off of quite dramatically. Now, I'm worried that the Anarchs might come after me. And LaCroix is still probably trying to kill me, or at least lead me into death. And Strauss is far from a safe bet, as the Domination he put on me shows. I have no real friends, no one to turn to, no one to help me. I feel so... vulnerable right now. _

I thought back to my old apartment, and realized that it was completely insecure. _I don't know if the Anarchs know about it yet, but LaCroix does. And I... I left a diary there. Incriminating evidence of my intentions. God, how could I be so stupid? I need to... to... _I took another drag and calmed myself down, letting my worries drift out with the smoke. _Okay, so I need to take care of that, but it underlines a far bigger problem. I should be able to keep private documents somewhere safe. I need a haven. A real haven. Somewhere I can know that I'm not being watched, not in danger. Bit where do I find one? I guess I could get an apartment or something, but... I need money. And a fake ID. And I'd have to fake a lot of paperwork._

Resigned, I leaned my head back onto the brick wall behind me, and I felt the throb of bass echo through it into my skull. I smiled. I'd never liked this kind of music, but it was rapidly becoming comforting – The Confession was a place where I was under no pressure, a place of easy blood and easy opportunity. _Hell, doesn't Venus owe me money for something? I don't even remember what... oh yeah, I killed some guys for her. Ha! After the night I've had, I can see how a few minor murders might slip my mind. God, so fucked up when I consider what I know about death now. And yet... they attacked me. I mean, I don't plan on being so cavalier about killing, after this whole experience, but I'm definitely not going to hesitate when someone decides to threaten me. It's one thing to respect the sanctity of life and the soul, another to refuse to stand up for yourself. But, whatever. I could use a drink, and I could use some money._

I stood up and wandered around to the entrance of the club.

I walked up to the bouncers and tried to walk past, casually. They weren't having it. They immediately closed ranks. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The one on the right boomed at me.

I stepped back, trying to act nonchalant. "Um, I'm trying to go see Venus. Is there a problem?"

He crossed his arms and scowled down at me. "Yeah, there's a problem. I don't know what you've been doing tonight, or who you killed, but you look like a goddamn psycho that crawled out of the sewers." _Not far off the mark, actually._ "You're gonna freak out everyone in the club. Get the hell out of here before the cops show up and shut us down."

I took a moment to assess my situation. Walking away would make sense. It would be the easy option. The sensible option. It was also the cowardly option. I thought back to when I was huddled in the bathroom of The Last Round, humiliated, realizing that I'd just gone along with what I was told, that I was respected by no one. _Goddamnit, I won't be fucking talked down to by these humans. I did Venus a favor. She owes me money. She owes me something. __**And I'm fucking hungry. We don't have to take this. And if we do, we're just going to keep getting walked all over.**_ "Look, I'm fucked up because of something I had to do for Venus. I'm going to go in and talk to her. You can either let me in, or be next on my list. Now move."

I stared into his eyes and bent his mind to my will. He moved aside. His silent companion reached out as though to stop me, but I just stared at him and put him in a Trance. I walked past, smiling, my grin barely concealing my fangs, my hunger rising up. But I refused to lose control. I just smiled at the patrons as they stared at my bloody, ripped suit as I walked into the Confession, kind of loving the attention.

In the darkness, the blood stains were less noticeable. Or maybe people were just too fucked up to realize how out of place I was. It didn't matter. I walked over to the bar and sat down. Venus was busy, dealing with a slew of customers. She had some fumbling young blonde girl with short curly hair, dressed in a short black dress and nothing else helping her deal with the deluge. It took a minute before she saw me.

"Hi there, what can I get you this evening?" Her response was mechanical and her eyes passed through me.

"You can get me the money you owe me."

That made her look up and actually see me. "Lucius! I, um, I'm glad to see you! And in one piece! I heard about happened, and-"

"There he is!" The bouncer I'd Dominated had come into the club, and ran over to me, grabbing me by my jacket collar.. "I don't know what you did, but you're in for a world of hurt if you think you can come in here and-"

"John!" Venus exclaimed, running around the bar towards me. "You let go of him this instant! What's wrong with you?"

"I, uh, this guy, he was," John stammered, sounding dumber with each word.

"Didn't I tell you to let 'this guy' in? What am I paying you for if you can't even follow basic instructions?"

"But Venus, he was-"

"I don't want to hear it. Go outside and do your damn job, before I decide to give it to someone else!"

John meekly backed away. It was extremely gratifying to watch the lummox realize he'd screwed up. The feeling of having influence, of having a powerful mortal ally, was intoxicating. _I need this. I need to have a place where I can feel like I'm in control. Things have been completely out of my hands since my embrace. Quite frankly, I'm sick of it._ I smiled at Venus once he was gone, asking her, "It's kind of loud. Could we go somewhere more private to talk?"

She beamed back at me, saying, "I was about to suggest the same thing. Follow me." She to a door behind the bar, gesturing me to follow her, telling the already overwhelmed girl to, "Hold down the fort 'til I get back." The poor girl's dismay at being left alone couldn't have been more apparent. I just smiled, amused. _Wish that was the worst thing I had to worry about._ Venus opened the door and I followed.

We walked up stairs, onto walkways that went over the club. I looked down at the mass of humanity below me. I watched them throb in time to the beat, I watched their auras swirl in time to the music, bursting with the colors of lust and love, wild abandon and ecstatic release. I smelled blood drifting up from the throbbing mass of bodies, and I knew that I'd have frenzied if I was inside it, hungry as I was. But from above, detached, I could just appreciate the sheer mass of blood-filled humanity. Still, my mouth couldn't keep from watering as I wandered past two girls dancing in cages above the crowd, dressed only in blood-red bra and panties, handcuffed to the bars, gyrating to the music. I reached out to the girl on the right, the redhead, and my hand caught in the bars. She looked down at me and laughed, dancing her breasts closer to me, swaying her flesh mere millimeters from my fingertips. _So close, yet so far... god I'm hungry. Must have used more blood up in that ritual than I thought._

"They're quite nice, aren't they?" I pulled my hand back and stared at Venus. She was dancing now, swinging her hips as she caressed the cage. I stared hungrily. "Hot little things. They're half the reason I have a packed crowd every night. I'm the other half." Venus gave me a wicked smile as she slid her hand along the curve of her body. _Heh. She's not quite right about why I'm staring, but close enough. __**I think we found our meal.**_ I licked my lips. Venus turned away, giving me a seductive look out of the corner of her eyes as she crocked a finger, telling me, "Come along, now. We're almost there."

We headed past the cages, past the crowd. We passed above the altar with the inverted cross that put a smile on my face. "Nice touch, there. Heresy always had a special place in my heart."

Venus smiled back at me. "Excellent. I was worried that you were like most mob fools, heart of stone except when it comes to God. Never made a lick of sense to me." She turned and opened a door past the altar. Behind it, the music cut off as thick stone absorbed everything but the bass. Everything was different back here. The club was all open space, vast gothic arches overhead making you feel like it stretched on forever. Back here it was thickly claustrophobic, with tight hallways made of huge bricks, making everything feel small and cramped. The hallway led off to the right and left, but Venus took me straight forward, down a winding spiral staircase in a small tower. At the bottom, we passed through a narrow arch into a what was once some sort of rectory, converted through redecoration into a comfortable modern office.

Venus walked to her desk, turned and leaned back on it as she casually eyed me up and down. "No offense, but you look like shit. I hope those men didn't hurt you too badly."

I looked down at my torn suit, covered in blood. "Oh, this? No, this is from some other bullshit I had to deal with tonight. I killed those Russian idiots with no problem."

Her eyes widened, impressed. "Is that so? Seems you've had a busy night. Is every night like this for you?"

As hectic as this night had been, I thought back over my existence since my embrace, and honestly, it only stood out because of the whole thing with Paul. In terms of pure violence, there was nothing to make it particularly exciting. _Hell, I've had to kill fewer people tonight than any other since becoming Kindred._ "In recent memory, yeah. Kind of wish it wasn't, but you do what you have to, I guess. So, about the money you promised."

"Yes, of course." Venus reached into her cleavage and pulled out a wad of cash, smiling mischievously as she handed it to me. I smiled hungrily back at her as I took the payment. _Is she actually this into me?_ A quick scan of her aura revealed otherwise. This was all calculated – she wanted me to want her, as part of some plan to get me to agree to help her, no doubt. Problem was, it was working, in a way – all I could think about was how to get close to her, how to penetrate her with my fangs. Sure, I could jump her here, but that would ruin any potential business relationship we might have. I had to play this carefully. "You certainly did better than my bouncer did – poor dear can't turn his neck to the right any more. You're tough. I must say, I'm impressed."

Once again, she looked me over, slowly this time, smile growing as she did so. I was getting sick of this game. I was impatient to figure out what she wanted, and impatient to feed. "So what do you want from me?"

She opened her mouth in mock surprise and indignation. "What, I can't just thank you for helping me out of a sticky situation?" Her mouth turned into a pout.

I probably could have played things better, but I'd been jerked around enough tonight. "I get the feeling you're not quite unstuck yet."

Her pout turned into a smile, this one genuine. "Glad to see you're as smart as you are tough. And you already made it clear that you won't do business unless you have all the facts laid out. Very smart. So let me lay it out for you. To start this club, I had to take out a significant loan from a king bastard named Boris. Every time I haven't been able to make the monthly fee plus far too much interest, that bastard takes what he feels is a suitable late fee. It's the reason I can barely stay afloat, even though this is one of the most successful clubs in downtown LA."

"Ah. I take it the men you sent me to deal with worked for Boris?"

Venus nodded, fear and desperation coming into her eyes. "Already had a call from Boris – wasn't too happy about tonight, son of a bitch. Said he's going to make me pay... one way or another."

I felt a twinge of pity for this woman – but only a twinge. _She got herself in this mess. Still, there's opportunity here... big opportunity, if she's as desperate as she seems. And unless I'm reading her aura wrong, she's not faking that._ _**Who cares? Just agree to whatever she says so we can feed, think about it later! **_I silenced the Beast with a little strength of will. "So I take it you want to end your business relationship with this man, and he won't let you off the hook."

She shook her head. "Listen, I know it's a lot to ask, but you're obviously someone well connected. I assume you're in the mob or some kind of criminal organization – you have allies and resources you can call on, right?"

"I mean... I'm not really in any sort of organization. Without going into too much detail... I'd say I have connections and contacts with a lot of groups, but I belong to none. Though after tonight, I'm pretty sure I've cut my ties with one organization – disorganized as they are, fucking Anarch...ists. But yeah, I'm kind of a free agent."

Her eyes lit up at "anarchists," and she was smiling from ear to ear at "free agent." "How very interesting. I knew there was something about you that clicked when we met. See, you and I, we both like having our independence, no?" I nodded. "Right. Well, I'm sick of being under Boris' thumb. In fact, I'll be blunt." She squared her jaw, and I saw steely determination hit her eyes. "I refuse to... fuck," she spat the word like a curse, "that fat, misogynistic old man one more time to hold on to this club. I'm better than that, god damn it! So I need you to... eliminate him." Her lips slid into an evil smile at those last two words, obviously relishing in the fantasy of being a mob queen, of putting out a hit. And she wanted me to be the hitman.

_**Great! Just agree so we can feed already! **__Hold on a minute, I need to know,_ "What do I get out of this?"

She stepped closer to me, nearly touching me, looked right into my eyes, and asked, "How would you like to get into the club business, hm?"

"What exactly does that entail?"

"Well, basically I'd make you co-owner with me. I'd continue operating the club as I see fit, and you get to reap all the benefits."

And suddenly I was intrigued enough to forget my hunger for a moment. I'd expected promises of payment, but not this. _My own domain. My own territory. My own personal blood supply, available whenever I want... Hold on, let's not jump the gun here. Details._ "What's that mean? What sort of benefits?"

"Well, first of all, you'd get ten percent of the profits every week. I'd say that should run three or four hundred. I only take ten percent myself, I invest the rest back in the club. And of course, you and your friends get free admittance, free drinks, the whole VIP treatment."

_Hm... tempting, tempting. _"Speaking of VIP, what about access to a private VIP area?"

"I considered having the walkway or one of the areas back here as a VIP lounge, but I ran into security issues. Too much access to my personal office and all that. There's three towers at the back. I use one of them for storage, this one is my office, and the last one is this dusty, creepy old thing, used to be the priest's room or something. Full of old books and stuff. I haven't gone in there in ages, honestly."

And I was hooked. _Another Haven. One not controlled and monitored by LaCroix. No one would even know this place was mine, wouldn't think to look for me here. Even Strauss doesn't know about it, meaning I could keep necromancy notes here and he'd have no idea. _I smiled. "Could I have that tower? Like, as my own personal area? Where I have the only key?"

She eyed me askance. "What on earth for?"

"Don't worry about it. Just tell me – could I?"

"I, uh, I suppose so. I don't use it. Don't see why you'd want it, but fine. It's out of the way – only way to get to it is through the walkway and those small hallways behind the club. No other way in. Really inconvenient."

_So it's hard to get to. It's hidden. It's secure. It's perfect._ "That's actually a selling point. And I'm nearly sold."

She casually slid up to me, leaning against me, running her hand along my blood-encrusted tie. She coyly looked over at me. "Nearly? Well, could it possibly take to seal the deal?" _**Fucking finally! God, all work and no play really do make Johnny a dull boy. Can you stop talking business now and fucking jump her already? **_I laughed. "Well I would like to get to know you a little better, first. After all, we are about to become business partners."

She laughed, genuinely amused, though her aura was also emanating a feeling of triumph. She suddenly stopped the laughter, face dead serious. She looked into my eyes intently_. "_Before we go any further, I need you to give me your word. You have to promise me, here and now, that you'll kill Boris. That you'll find some way to end that disgusting, miserable old fuck forever."

I smiled. _I don't know about forever, but he'll be dead, yeah._ I nodded. "I promise I will kill Boris for you, if you will make me co-owner and give me the unused tower." I reached out my hand and she shook it.

I watched her face bloom into a triumphant grin, and she squeezed my hand. "Agreed. I have complete faith in you. I get the feeling that this is the start of a mutually profitable and pleasurable relationship." She relaxed against me, eyes languid and sensual and full of promise. "Well, now that we're partners, is there anything you'd like to know about me? Ask me whatever you want, I'm open to anything."

I smiled at her, eager and hungry, ready to shred this charade. I could feel the Beast inside me, ravening, raging, screaming about cravings and sex and violence and blood, and I could tell there was some kind of echo of that inside her. "Tell me, Venus – does the thought of ordering a hit on Boris turn you on? Do you like having this kind of power?"

There could be no questioning the effect my words had on her – her eyes lit up, as a wicked smile crept across her lips, and she positively purred, "Oh god, yes. Let's end this silly game. Come here, you brutal killer."

She pulled me into a forceful embrace, aggressively shoving her tongue into my mouth. I felt her gasp, and realized I was corpse cold. I bit down on the offered appendage, my mind lighting up as the precious vitae hit my tongue. I was lifted up on that familiar wave of life, and warmth flooded back into my flesh, spreading out from my tongue entwined around hers. We were in utter bliss for a few stunned seconds. I released her tongue, wanting more, _needing _more. I swirled my tongue around hers as she pulled it out, all signs of damage erased. She stumbled back and felt her tongue for blood. There were a few drops, but not enough to alarm her. She laughed at the blood and stared at me with naked hunger. "My my, but aren't you vicious. Good. I like it rough. Now, show me what you can really do."

With an evil smile, I complied, pulling her hair back and plunging my fangs into her inviting jugular. I was swept away in that rush of ecstasy, that absolute fulfillment of the one need that was my existence, that mixture of lust and hunger and thirst, of every physical desire a mortal could feel combined, and stacked on top of it was that most fundamental desire – the desire to live, to live forever. And more, sliding on the waves of ecstasy, of sexual union, was that ultimate invasion – the invasion of the mind. Her memories slid into me with her life essence, and I gobbled up her mind as greedily as I sucked out her life.

I saw Venus, a rebellious teenage rocker in London, radical and wild. At sixteen, in the late eighties, she ran away from her stuffy, proper, middle class home to become a groupie for a local metal band, Corrosion. She lived in their garage, drank their beer, smoked their pot, fucked all of them, and actually managed to get them to get along and play well. They got decent and made money, so their manager set up a tour of a bunch of towns in the English countryside, and maybe London if they did well enough. She followed them on a wild ride of increasing debauchery that could only be described as any parents worst nightmare, and Venus took it upon herself to bring as many people as possible in to the carnival of excess. She shamelessly promoted her band, made sure to acquire excess amounts of anything that could get a human fucked up in any way, then pushed herself to go above and beyond everyone around her in her pursuit of excess, and calling anyone who couldn't keep up with her "a' right fuckin' pussy!' Corrosion was a wild success thanks to Venus, and they got to play in London. London was more than I could handle. The sheer overwhelming rush of pleasures and pains, highs and comedowns and sexual escapades of such intensity and variety that I can't- it made no sense but god was it good. I watched Venus's life slide into a writhing pit of decadence and abandon, as I watched her slide to her knees, her legs unable to support her. I held her up, not wanting to give up the rush of confidence and power that was blasting into me with her memories rushing in fast forward, a spinning haze of sex and drugs and rock and roll rioting across London, rioting across my mind...

I pulled out, terrified of what was happening to me. I'd felt this before, with Dennis. I hadn't had enough context at the time to understand, but I did now. I was high on some kind of drug, because Venus had been. I threw Venus to the ground, disgusted and afraid. Afraid of how much I liked this. I felt powerful, even more than I usually did after feeding. I felt confidence race through me at the same time nervous energy made me jittery to the point I was almost shaking. With a shudder, I pulled myself back to myself. _Task at hand._ And I felt like I could focus on any task superbly. _So what's my task? Uphold the Masquerade, as always. Make this all look like sex rather than feeding._

I leaned over Venus, licking her wounds shut. I unzipped her jeans, then pulled her shirt over her head. I took a moment to stare at her exposed breasts, not feeling embarrassed in the least. _Nice,_ I thought, but my mind already on the next task. I removed both of my coats, loosened my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and then sat myself down in a chair, lighting another cigarette to calm my raging nerves and to fill time until Venus woke up.

_Good god, I both can clearly see why people do drugs, and I can't fathom it. This feeling of power and confidence is amazing, but definitely not worth being this jittery and nervous and paranoid. Although, I've got to be paranoid. Have to be paranoid of myself. Can't risk getting hooked on anything. _I took another drag of my cigarette. _God, I can't stop thinking in overdrive. Will she remember anything when she wakes up? I just jumped her, she felt me when I was cold. I'm warm now that I've fed. Got to figure out how to do that all the time. Make sure I do it whenever I interact with mortals. Is there anything else I should do to make the story seem more believeable? Maybe take all her clothing off? Yeah, that would make sense. Or is that too much? Nah, she won't care, I've seen her life, she's woken up in way more fucked up situations._ I bent down and took off her underwear carefully, so as not to wake her._ This is weird. This whole situation is weird. What am I doing here? What the hell kind of life do I have now? Got to calm down. No reason to freak myself out. It's just this drug, whatever it is. I'm new to it. Let's keep it that way before I get addicted to addict blood. I watched this kind of thing destroy lives while I lived. _I shook my head and pulled back into that meditative bubble, let myself slip into that old familiar pattern of relaxation as I inhaled my nicotine to drive out the feeling of this strange new substance, strange new experience.

I rapidly poured my thoughts into planning to distract myself. _So, first things first, I need to make sure this club is safe. I need to make sure I can trust Venus. How? Ah, I know just the way. I only need to be alone in the tower I'll use as a haven. Then, to take care of this problem for Venus and make this my domain, I need weapons. I'll talk to Mercurio. And some way to bind Venus to her promises, since it's not like I can drag her into court if she screws me. Oh, and something I didn't think of before. What if this place is someone's domain? What if I'm stepping on shoes here by killing Boris? Oh, shit. I need to make sure of that before anything else. Is Venus a ghoul? I don't think so... that seemed like normal blood, though I don't know if I could tell normal addict blood from ghoul addict blood. I wish I'd drunk more so I could have seen more of her memories, so I'd know for sure... _I looked down at Venus and began to ponder her.

I was trying to simultaneously consider all the different angles to making this my secure domain when Venus began to stir. Slowly, at first. She sat up, looking around, dazed. She stretched and yawned before pushing herself up. She spotted me. I gave her a satisfied grin before sucking on the end of my cig. She looked down at herself, then laughed. She stood up and quickly covered and composed herself, clearly not at all put off about finding herself naked on the floor of her office with no memory of what just happened but a pleasurable haze. _Of course not. I've seen her memories. She's been through far more mad situations._ Once dressed again, she just stared at me trying to express something... gratitude, awe, maybe even a little fear... but more than any expression or emotion, I saw eyes that were heavy-lidded and glazed with a narcotic happiness that I was sure had nothing to do with any chemical she'd ingested – I'd put that in her mind, with my fangs, which I licked discreetly. It looked like she liked this high. She spoke first. "I must say, I'm quite impressed. I haven't felt this good in... god, far too long."

_Ha! She means she's never felt this good. Too proud to admit I was your best, eh?_ But her aura confirmed that she was genuine - she was really and truly stunned with pleasure, and therefore she was completely unfamiliar with the bite of a Kindred. A_t least I know I'm not stepping on any toes with her. Boris is another matter._ "Well, I aim to please," was the only comment I could think of.

She shook herself. "You aim well. God, I feel light-headed. I need a bit of focus." With that, she started breaking out lines of white powder on her desk that my movie-trained mind tagged as cocaine. _At least now I know what she was on._ I was a little too stunned to say anything – I wanted to demand she stop, but knew I probably couldn't do so successfully without using Dominate. _After all, this is her office, and drugs are an integral part of her life. Not that I have to like it._ She quickly cut out lines and was putting them up her nose, while I looked down mine at her. After doing a line, she looked up to offer me a rolled up twenty, but I just gave her a withering look that sent her back to her drug. Between bouts of inhalation, I offhandedly, almost casually commented to her that, "You know coke is extracted natural insecticide from the cocoa plant, right? You do enough of that shit and it will make your heart pop, just as it's intended to do to bugs."

She looked up at me, resentment and disdain in her eyes and aura. "You know nicotine kills more people than all illegal drugs combined? Don't tell me you're one of those 'straight-edge' types I've heard about? Didn't know they actually existed."

"Yeah, I suppose you wouldn't," I replied as I took out another cigarette, thinking over her life, the way she had literally not interacted with a voluntarily sober person since she was sixteen. I shook myself. _How has she even got this far? No wonder she ended up in such a fucked up situation. It's not like she even had a chance to live a normal life. She was just pulled into this strange world and had to adapt to it. Heh, not unlike someone I know..._

She shot me back a withering glance of her own, asking, _"_What's that supposed to mean?"

My eyes flicked down as I flicked the lighter on, embarrassed that I'd spoken so freely. _What am I supposed to say? I know because I saw your whole life when I ingested your blood and part of your soul?_ "Nothing." was all I said. I just smoked my cigarette, and she turned back to her coke.

She inhaled the last line of the toxic substance as I inhaled the last of mine. Right after doing her line, she cried out and pressed a finger to her nostril. I stared, wondering if she had hurt herself. "Are you okay?"

She just laughed. "Far better than okay. Goddamn! I said goddamn!" She chuckled to herself, obviously making some joke I didn't get. Then she turned a withering gaze my way. "Have you ever tried this stuff, or do you just rag on shit you know nothing about?"

_Nope, never in life. I had more sense than that. Though in a way... I guess I have now, thanks to you. God, this does feel wonderful. I want her again... Task at hand, Lucius. I need to just change the subject. _"Hey, do you think we could check out that tower you told me I could have? I just want to make sure it can meet my needs."

Smiling now, she playfully asked, "What, I don't meet your needs?"

I rolled my eyes. "I have many needs. You couldn't possibly meet them all. Though you're coming awfully close." I tried to give her my best smile, but from her reaction I probably only looked like a leering creep. Which was fine – the deal was already sealed and my hunger sated. I was done maintaining appearances – especially for someone that I knew had seen far, far more decrepit and uncouth beings than I and had accepted their behavior as normal. _Of course, she has no idea the depths to which I've sunk..._ The thought unsettled me. If this kind of addiction and lack of control unsettled me, how could I be comfortable with my Beast? _**Maybe because you're a hypocritical little shit.**_

She interrupted my unsettling thoughts. "Well, alright. But I warn you, it's really a dusty old miserable place, nothing worth, well, anything really. Come with me." She got up and headed out of her office with me in tow.

We walked up the steep spiral staircase, into the narrow passageway that felt claustrophobic and prison-like. _Or like a fortress. Let's stay positive._ _This place is amazing. No one could harm me here. No one will even know I'm here. This is my refuge. My sanctuary. _

Venus pulled out an old key, like something from a Victorian mansion, and opened a wrought-iron lock on a thick oak door inlaid with intricate metalwork. It creaked as it swung open, revealing a dark chamber within. She flicked on a single light bulb on the ceiling, which provided barely enough light to fill the place, casting deep shadows everywhere. It felt like something from another time, like an old castle tower, complete with the narrow and tall windows. _Easier to block out the sun_. A rough circular wooden table sat in the middle of the room. A small desk sat on the far side of the tower, next to a few shelves that were full of ancient books with cobwebs sticking between those few titles not packed tight next to their fellows. In fact, cobwebs seemed to hang from every corner, and dust covered every surface, floating freely in the air now that we'd disturbed it.

"Well, this is it. Not much, I'm afraid. The old priest liked to live the simple, life, I guess. Hey, there's something you two have in common." She chuckled, a smirk on her face.

I just gave her a look out of the corner of my eye, muttering, "I wish my life was simple. Still, this could do. Is there anything else in this tower?" I looked around, seeing only a small cot.

Venus pointed to a narrow stairway spiraling up the side of the tower. "There's an attic, though I don't think it's in any kind of order. I don't even know if there's even a light up there."

I picked up one of two candelabras sitting on the desk. I lit all three candles on both, then handed Venus the other. "Well, let's go take a look. I'd like to see everything I'm getting in this deal, down to the smallest detail." I led the way up the stairs.

The stuffy room was lit only by my candle light. Every flicker sent shadows dancing across strange artifacts of this place's past. _I feel something... A presence. A hostile presence. _ I heard whispers in the shadows, drifting on the still air, screaming at me to get out. The room was cluttered haphazardly with boxes full of dusty stacks of bibles or old religious books. Old vestments of the priestly office lay draped across a massive circular mirror leaning against the far wall, its edge elaborately carved wood. I set aside a large wooden cross the size of a man that stood in my path at the top of the stairs. Large metal symbols stood against the far wall, the his and chi rho, alpha and omega, a quarterfoil... I could see a baptismal font, a communion wine goblet, various ceremonial objects important to church rituals, along with large candles intended for the same purpose. Everything looked old, but not too old. _This had all been used ten or so years ago. This place had once been a church. And this tower, this pile of discarded trash is all that was left of it._

Venus stepped in, her flickering light adding to my own. "Well, here you are. Not much to look at really. In fact, I've been meaning to throw most of this junk out since I bought this place, just never had time."

"It's fine as is," I replied. I knew there was a ghost here now, a very terrified one, demanding that I get out, that I leave his holy relics alone, calling on the power of God and his righteous anger to make us leave him and all that's left of his church, screaming about how Venus could desecrate everything else, but couldn't destroy this last refuge. After my experience with the Ocean House Hotel, the last thing I wanted was a ghost angry at me. But I knew a way to calm him down. To bring him over to my side. "I just need that mirror over there." I grabbed the priestly robes on top of the mirror and threw them on a desk. Venus moved to help me with the mirror, but I easily lifted the thing on my own, despite it being about three yards across. Not that it would be too heavy, but it was almost too awkwardly large to get a grip on. Venus watched me, impressed and a bit worried as I carefully made my way down the steep and narrow spiral stairs. Once it was clear I could handle myself, she grabbed my candles and went down after me.

I made it to the ground and hefted the mirror to the circular table, which was almost exactly the same size. I perched the mirror on the edge of the table facing the wall, and leaned the mirror up against it, its base barely resting on the edge of the table, two circles at right angles, only just touching. I'd just finished my arrangement when Venus made it down.

"Redecorating already? Well, I suppose that means you like the place, then?" She set the candles down on the table.

"Perhaps. Perhaps. I'd like to be here by myself for a few minutes."

Venus raised an eyebrow. "What, trying to get intimately acquainted with the old books?"

I chuckled. "You could say that, yeah. Just... give me a little time to think on some things. Like how I'm going to kill Boris. I'll meet you at your office when I'm done here."

I might have come off wrong, because Venus tensed up. "I, um, alright, fine. I'll just be along then. Come see me when you get bored of the cobwebs." She gazed at me, curious, trying to read my face – but I was showing nothing but a pleasant smile to her, maintaining it until she was out of the room, the door was closed, and I heard her footsteps move down the hall, and her door open and then close. _Okay, so maybe I'm a little paranoid right now. Calm down_. I dropped the expression like a mask, along with all outwards signs that I was breathing and alive.

I walked to the table, chalk in my hand. I spoke to the air, to the spirit I knew was there even if I couldn't see it, as I drew the circle and the symbols within. "I know you're there. Watching me. Watching over this place. I want you to know I intend you no harm. I could be a great help to you. You heard that Venus wants to throw away your things. I know how important these are to you. I know they tie you to this world. I can make sure they never go anywhere. Never." I emphasized the final word as I finished the inscription. I then hopped up on the chalk drawing I'd just completed to repeat it on the mirror in my blood. I continued speaking as I continued the ritual. "I also want you to know that I can drive out spirits, and I can reach into your world should I wish. I'm far more than I appear to be. But I really have nothing against you, and I'd rather we get along. Because I'm going to be staying in this tower, and we can either coexist agreeably, or you can be evicted." I felt a physical thickening in the air, as the ghost tried to steal my breath – breath I no longer needed. I laughed at his feeble attempts to fight me. I finished the ritual and placed candles at the points of the star, lighting them all. After a moment of consideration, I flipped off the lights. Sure, it made the whispers floating on the air that much creepier, but that only helped set the mood for the ritual.

I sat in front of the table, opposite the mirror, and concentrated. The barrier between worlds was already thin here, I had to do next to nothing to pierce it. I placed Paul and Hannah's fingers in the center and concentrated on them, calling their names aloud. They appeared instantly.

Hannah was still naked, except for one accessory – the shackles she had been wearing when I first summoned her. She had hooked one wrist into the other, fastening them around her waist like a belt. _It kinda of works. Better than nothing, I suppose._ Paul looked the same as always. They both looked surprised for a moment, then Paul burst out laughing.

"Lucius, you have the best timing. I swear, I had just mouthed off to the wrong ghost. You saved me from getting my face smashed in by this old guy claiming to be a legionnaire. Hell, he probably was in life. Definitely looked the part."

His left eye was bruised and swollen. Hannah had already moved over to him, gently running her hands over his face. "Are you okay?"

Paul laughed flippantly. "Ha! I'm fine. I've been through far worse." The bruise was already starting to fade.

Hannah looked up at him, worried. "Is the afterlife really that violent?"

"Oh, uh, I meant while I was alive. My afterlife was pretty boring until you died. But, uh, I guess you really don't know about half the stuff I got into while I was alive, do you?"

Hannah stared at Paul, eyes wide with concern but also seeming to reassess her lover. _Hannah really didn't know anything about the supernatural world. Well, I guess letting the dead in on the secret isn't a breach of the Masquerade._ "There's a lot you don't know – about the world of the living or the dead. I'm one of those weird ones that get to sit halfway between the two, never dying but never really living, either." Hannah turned to me, eyes widening, now reassessing me. "Paul helped out our kind while he was alive." She turned back to Paul, questions on her face. "I'll let Paul fill you in on the details later, I don't really have time right now. There's something we have to discuss. So if you two don't mind, I have a proposal to make to you both." _I'm making a gamble here, but if I can trust anyone, it's these two. Especially because I have power over what's most important to them. Not that I ever plan on using it, of course. No, these two are the closest thing I have to friends right now. It's just, well, it just eases the mind to know I've got a backup plan._

"Yeah, of course. What's up?" Paul looked at me attentively, like a loyal dog eager to help me however he could.

I smiled a little, glad to know that I had someone to count on. _Why did I even think of blackmailing Paul? He's never done anything but help me... except when Hannah was in danger. And now that he's with her, he'll be fine as long as the two of them are safe and secure. Which I can make sure of._ "Well, look, we all kind of are... a little unstable right now. You both need a place where your things, your fetters..." I opened the backpack onto the table, spilling the things connecting them to this world haphazardly over the symbols. "...can be kept safe.. And, I guess you need some kind of place to stay, right? Some kind of home, or-"

"A haunt!" Hannah exclaimed, laughing. "I mean, that seems like as good a name for a ghost home as any, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sure, a haunt for you, a haven for me. See, I need a place to stay that's mine, that's safe. So I was thinking that this tower seems safe and secure. Plenty to eat for me out in the club, and I can keep all your stuff safe in here. What do you think? Is there any reason you can see why I shouldn't stay here?"

"I-" Paul stopped and looked to the side, staring at something that looked to me like a sputtering aura. "Huh? Wait, slow down, I can't understand you. Okay, hold on." He turned back to me. "There's this ghost here, he's a priest, and he's shouting about how this is his home, how this is hallowed ground being desecrated, and, uh, he's kinda mad and ranting."

I looked over at the priest, who I could see as a wispy outline of a man, his face only just barely perceptible if I concentrated really hard. He seemed scared and sad. Hannah was looking at him with pity, and tried to comfort him. "I understand. I mean, I only just died, and its already hard to accept that I can't really change anything. Of course you want to be remembered. It must be hard for you, with all these people partying here where you used to have a whole congregation and stuff. Hey!" She was suddenly upset, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. "Don't call me that! I'm just trying to help. And it's not my fault I didn't come into the world of the dead with any clothes on."

I chuckled. _If he called her what I think he did, he's more accurate than he knows._ "What's his name?"

Hannah had turned her back to the priest, sulking. Paul answered me. "Father Francis. He says we can stay, but he's not giving up on driving out the patrons and turning this back into a church."

I rolled my eyes. _Whatever, I can always drive him out if I have to._ "Father Francis, you can do whatever you want with your afterlife. Good luck convincing the people of LA to go to church instead of a club. As long as you don't try and drive me away. Last ghost that tried that found their fetters destroyed, you understand me? Leave Paul, Hannah and I alone, and I'll make sure you can stay here. Mess with us, and you'll end up... I don't know, wherever ghosts go when they can't touch the world of the living any more. Heaven of Hell, I imagine you believe. And obviously you still have something to do to earn Heaven, or your wouldn't be here. So don't make me kick you out before you're ready to ascend, yeah? Can you handle that? Are we good?"

I saw him nod and smiled. _I knew playing on his religious beliefs would work. _Paul excitedly exclaimed, "He says yes! This is gonna work out! Cool. Nice to meet you, roomie!" Paul moved to shake the man's hand, only to run into an invisible wall at the edge of the circle. I could see the priest roll his eyes when Paul started moving over, and laugh when he hit the wall.

I chuckled, too. "Yeah, that was funny. Paul, you already know you spirits can't get in or out of the circle. We found out when we rescued Hannah, remember?"

I saw Father Francis turn to me in surprise. Hannah turned around to look at me directly, instead of through the mirror, so her image turned around and I was staring at her back. I tried to focus on her actual ghost, in the circle, but it was hard. The image was so much more solid. "You can see him? Like, you can actually see us?" She turned to Paul, yelling, "Paul, you said we were invisible to the living! That Lucius could only see us through the mirror!"

"Turn around. I can see you a hell of a lot clearer through the mirror." She turned and sat to face me. "Paul told you the truth. I'm not alive, remember - I'm a vampire." I let that one sink in for a second. I watched Hannah switch from laughter, to confusion, to fascination. I could see the priest backing out of the room, so I fixed my gaze firmly on him and spread my hands reassuringly. "Father Francis, I want to swear to you right now that I'm nothing satanic or evil. I'm simply a person who has to feed on blood. I got this way because my Sire decided to Embrace me, not because I chose to in some dark ritual. So you can make all kind of prayers against evil with your cross that you want." As I was speaking, he was doing that very thing, holding out his cross at arms length and walking towards me. "Because they won't work. Because I'm not evil." _**Believe whatever you want, choirboy. You know you're lying. Deep down, you know you're lying to him and to yourself. Because deep down inside you, I'm there. And I may do many, many horrible things every chance I get, but I don't lie.**_

It took every ounce of willpower not to snarl at the Beast. _I just fed! Why is he so loud right now?_ I kept my expression open and nonthreatening, and I watched the Priest scream at me, rant at me, and then run up to me and start smashing his huge wooden ghostly cross into me, or rather, through me. It seemed to tire him, and eventually he just stood there, hunched over and trying to pant but unable to.

Hannah broke the silence. "Yeah, I bet you never get used to that. Not being able to breathe, I mean. I catch myself trying all the time and it's so frustrating!"

Father Francis laughed at her. It was the first time I'd seen him smile. Paul smiled at her and then turned to me through the mirror. "Yeah, Lucius, you're lucky. You get to breathe if you want to, you just don't have to."

Father Francis turned back to me, glowering but no longer openly hostile. Hannah moved as close to him as she could, pressing up against the invisible wall at the edge of the circle. "Look, Father, I know you probably don't trust Lucius, but he's honestly one of the best people I've ever met. I've only just met him, and already I know he's an amazing person. I died tonight, did you know that? From this disease, I'd been wasting away for weeks. Right as I came through to this side, I had these chains put on me by a slaver who'd been sitting beside me, waiting for me to die. I had no chance, no hope. Then Lucius and Paul rescued me from slavery. Paul had known as soon as I'd died, and Lucius held me safe, even while I was shackled, until Paul could come and rescue me." She turned to her knight in shining white armor and kissed him, deeply and passionately, and for an instant the two of them were a perfect picture of undying love.

She pulled away, gazing adoringly into Paul's eyes for a moment before turning back to Father Francis. "Since then, I've seen Lucius help someone who was in a bad place. I've seen him do nothing but good. You can trust him. I do."

I was genuinely touched by Hannah's words, and was genuinely kind of happy and embarassed. Maybe it was Hannah's story, or Paul's adoration, or just the shy way I chuckled, I don't know, but Father Francis bought it. I watched his assessment change in his aura, not on his face, but I could tell just the same. I saw him shrug and then smile. Hannah jumped up and down, incredibly pleased, while Paul turned to me and told me, excited, "He's okay with it. So it's all okay. We can all stay here, all our stuff kept safe – and we all make sure you stay safe. Because you're it, man. You're our only way of making sure of anything in the land of the living. You're all we've got."

I was a little taken aback. I chuckled, a little emotionally raw. "You know, it's funny, but I don't have that many people alive or undead I can really trust, either. You two are kind of it. But you know what, I think all of us, together, could keep one another safe, yeah?" They all nodded, joy and hope on their faces. I could see that the newest addition to our entourage was not as thrilled. I had an idea. "And the first thing I need done, Father Francis, I need you to do. And I think you're going to like it. So, I imagine you're not too happy with Venus, are you? After the way she just destroyed her church. Okay, so how would you feel about spying on her for me? If you catch her breaking any of her promises to me, you catch her coming into this tower and messing with any of our stuff, you come tell me, and I'll make sure she's... punished properly" I could see his aura immediately light up with the joy of schadenfreude. He nodded.

Hannah laughed, telling me "He says that sounds like the most fun he's had since he died! Now he can finally make sure she's punished for something, even if it's not for destroying his church or living without any sense of morals."

I chuckled. "Glad to hear it, Father Francis. I promise, from here on out, the memory of you and the church this once was will always exist. I can live forever, and can protect this place forever. Now, why don't you go check on what Venus is doing right now? Come back and get me if she's up to something, like calling the Russian mob boss, Boris, who I'm supposed to kill, and setting me up or something, okay? If she's doing that, she's really going to regret it." He nodded vigorously, and then ran right through the locked, thick wooden doors. _His anger will make him hound her constantly, so I can ensure her loyalty. But how can I ensure his?_ I turned back to the two ghosts I knew were loyal to me, the closest I had to true friends and companions. "Okay, cool. Glad we've got him on board, but I'm glad he's gone. I don't trust him. Maybe I will in the future, but I don't right now. Keep an eye on him, okay? Make sure he's not up to anything, in case he starts making up stuff Venus did to make me try and hurt her. I really just told him that to give him something to do, I'm not planning on hurting her or anything. But, for our safety, we do have to make sure we keep an eye on her. You agree?"

I got nods from both of them. "This all sounds right on. That's what I love about you Lucius, you're always on point, always have a plan."

Hannah nodded, smiling, and gazed at me almost... wondrously. "I never feel lost or scared with you around, even with all the weird shit going on since I died. I can't really describe it, you're like the only rock I have to cling to."

I looked away. I guess it looked like I was embarrassed, but it was really shame and fear. _Good god, I have no idea what I'm doing. And you're betting your afterlife on me? Shit, and I'm betting my existence on you. I guess we're all that we've got right now._ I looked back at them, smiling, really and truly grateful. "I... thank you. It's good to have people you can trust with your life – or existence, or whatever the hell we have." We all laughed, because it was something we'd all wrestled with, and for the first time since the Thin Bloods I felt like I was part of a group that got me, that understood me. I felt one with them, like they were on my level. _**Yeah, and if they ever stop being on your level, you can always just use threats of destroying their fetters to whip them into shape.**_

The laughter choked in my throat, but it was dying down anyway. Paul looked at me, earnest and open, and asked, "So what can we do for you, Lucius?"

I smiled, replying, "It's about what you can do for all of us. This is our home now. So keep an eye on it. See what happens in this place. Let me know about anything supernatural that might cause us all trouble. Make sure Venus isn't fucking us over. Make sure Father Francis isn't fucking us over. And most of all, don't bring any trouble here." I pointed at Paul like a scolding father, telling him, "Don't get in any more fights with those Legionnaire guys, or anyone you can't handle. I can't fight your battles for you. I can sometimes rescue you, but I'm not on call. I call you when I need to, okay? I know you can manifest, and I guess you can get my attention if it's an emergency, but not ever in front of anyone that shouldn't see, you understand? We can't let normal people know about this. That's absolutely vital. That's the Masquerade, and if it ever drops, my entire species dies. I know you've been given this speech before."

Paul nodded, solemn. "I know. I would never have done that, if it was anything but Hannah dying. Hell, I had to make a deal with my Shadow to even get that ability, I don't even know if I could do it again. I won't, I swear I won't unless I absolutely have to, and even then, no violating the Masquerade."

I smiled. "Good. You know you're my right hand man right now, right Paul? You're gonna have to make sure things are taken care of around here. It's your job to watch our Haven – I know its a lot of responsibility, but I think you can handle it. Can you?" I almost felt bad about manipulating him to protect this place. Almost. _After all, he needs this as much as I do, if not more._

Love, loyalty and pride radiated through his aura and advertised themselves on his face. Him and Hannah both, though she was looking at Paul, not me. Paul stared me straight in the eye as he assured me, "You can count on me. This is our home. You're in charge, I understand that – but you've shown me as much respect as I could ever expect, and I will always remember that. You have my undying loyalty – ugh, pun not intended. This place is as safe as Ft. Knox with me here."

I smiled an nodded, knowing I'd accomplished my goal. "Okay, good to hear it. Well, I need to get back to Venus – she's probably wondering what I'm up to. So I'm ending the ritual, but shout if you see anything – I'll keep my hands on your fingers so I can hear you if I need to, and I'll contact you again soon." With that. I exited the morbid state, and the pair disappeared from the mirror immediately as the blood fell off the mirror. I picked up their fingers and placed one in each coat pocket. I decided to leave the chalk outline on the table – might save me time later. With one last look around, I shut off the light, bathing the place in utter darkness except for the band of light coming through the door, and as I shut the door, it returned to the darkness I had found it in.

I walked through the tiny halls back into Venus' office. I found her pacing nervously, though she immediately put on a relaxed pose as soon as I came in. If her pacing hadn't given her away, her aura would have. She wanted to make sure I was still in on this deal.

"So what do you think? You like what you see?"

I slowly nodded. "I do. A lot. I left some stuff in the tower – don't touch any of it. If we are going to be business partners, we need to establish the rules of trust. That tower is mine, and you aren't going to go poking around in it or in my business. If that's not okay, if you have to know what's happening in every inch of this club, then the deal is off."

She nodded eagerly. "Normally, I'm quite obesessive about controlling my club, but I don't consider that tower to be part of it. It's all yours – I'd never go in there anyway. But, in exchange, the rest of the club is mine. I've been in this business for far too long to have you or anyone telling me how to run my venue. So no music suggestions, no interference in my business at all, understand?"

_I wouldn't want to deal with those details even if I could._ "It's a deal. As long as the money keeps coming in, I couldn't care less about what you do, as long as I have freedom to get to that tower and do whatever I want in it."

She eyed me askance. "What exactly are you planning on getting up to in there? If you're going to be having your own little bondage club in there, I don't care. If anything, I'd be rather interested in joining in..."

I cut that off. "Not happening, unless you want me involved in running your club. Our businesses stay separate, okay?"

She shrugged. "Whatever pleases you, Lucius. Shall we shake on it?"

I stared down at her outstretched hand. _So this is where I have to fully commit myself, reforging the bond we just made. Here's hoping I'm not getting in to something over my head. Or, if I am – and knowing my luck, I am – I can get myself out of it. _I took her hand and grasped it firmly, staring her in the eye. "Honor your agreement, and I'll honor mine."

She stared, vacant-eyed, for a moment, before blinking and shaking her head a little, confused. I wasn't sure how well that would work – it was a complex instruction, and I wasn't sure how exactly Domination worked – but it was better than nothing. "Of course. Of course. So, I, uh, I suppose we're done here, aren't we?"

"Almost. Tell me a little more about Boris."

Her face became hard, and she was all business now. "Boris is high up in the Russian Mafia. Is that going to be a problem?"

I shrugged. "Depends. Do you know if he has any particularly... unusual business partners? Anyone he seems to answer to directly?"

Venus shook her head. "I'm not quite sure what you mean. I suppose he answers to someone in the Russian mob, but from what I understand he's in charge of their operation in LA. He's got free reign in this town, as long as he doesn't screw up the profit margins of the mafiosos back home. Which, I suppose him dying would do. Are you worried about retaliation?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but not from the Russian mob. I can find out if he's connected with any of the players I refuse to mess with. If he is involved... I'll still think of something, I just need to be more careful, that's all." _I'm probably going to just have to ask him directly if he's a ghoul. No other way to know. If there's any Kindred involved, I back out right away. But if there's nothing but humans... then I'm free to wipe everyone out and carve my own domain out of unclaimed turf. And then I can finally feel a small modicum of security._

"Glad to see you aren't getting cold feet," Venus replied cooly, though her aura still showed stripes of worry and anxiety.

"Never. Can you give me any more details?

She nodded. "Boris is at the Empire Arms Hotel, the one downtown. You don't want to go there tonight – apparently there was some kind of shootout earlier tonight, which is probably the only reason I'm not being shot right now."

I did a double take. "You've got to be kidding me. I was just there!"

Now it was her turn to do a double take. "Wait, you're telling me that you were the one that was responsible for that? My, but you've been busy tonight. Is that why you look like an extra on the Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

I chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. Ugly situation in there."

She stared, fascinated and impressed. "What exactly went down?"

I sighed, unpleasant memories surfacing. "Long story short... a business associate lost his cool. He flew of the handle, and acted unprofessionally. Hence why my business relationship with them is over. And why I desperately need a new place to hide out if I need to, somewhere that's not associated with any of my business contacts so far. Which is why I'm going to kill Boris for you."

She got that look again, the one she got when she was turned on by the idea of ordering a hit – that look of basking in power, in playing a role in a mob movie. "Excellent. I'm sure you have a weapons guy, but I can recommend someone to you. He's named Fat Larry. He has a whole arsenal available in a truck he drives around town, though its well hidden. He's keeping a low profile right now, but I can give him a call, make sure he knows you're alright – he should be able to help you."

I took the number and thanked her. "I do have someone, but more ordinance can't hurt." I took his number. "I won't be doing anything until tomorrow night, anyway. So, if you don't mind, I have things to do, crimes to plan. Another busy night in the life."

She nodded knowingly, still caught up in that look of loving the violence and power. "Of course, don't let me keep you. And if I might say, it's been a real pleasure doing business with you."

I nodded and smiled before walking out the door, out of the club, out of my new soon-to-be domain and Haven.

… … …

I found myself on the streets, suddenly no longer enveloped in noise, able to hear myself think and unsure of what to do. _Where to? I really have nowhere to go. I just wanted to leave. It was starting to get uncomfortable, with Venus looking at me like she wanted to eat me – especially with the temptation to taste her again. I definitely do not need another addiction. _I lit up a cigarette. _I mean, who would I want to be with right now, anyway? Who is there to talk to? The Anarchs? Ha! I'd be torn limb from limb. If only there was somewhere safe I could go to relax, think, make sense of things, maybe read a good book..._

It was as though my feet wandered over to the building on their own. I barely needed to use Auspex to see the place any longer – the Chantry stood out in my mind like an oasis in the desert. _Why the hell not? Sure, Strauss is trying to use me, and he definitely put some kind of compulsion in my mind – but at least I know he's not trying to kill me. He needs me, he's trying to use me. At least I know I'm safe there. Oh, and I may as well report concrete success with the Plague. After all, he did promise me some knowledge of Thaumaturgy if I could produce concrete results..._

I walked in and was immediately calmed by the complete silence – I couldn't hear a single car, not a single sound other than the scratch of pen on paper, and a light, eerie ringing sound. The order and rigidity of this place calmed my anxieties. I let out a sigh I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. The receptionist looked up.

"Um, can I help you, uh, Mr. Marshall?"

I smiled at that name. _I'm a part of this clan, like it or not. Connected to Serena, my only lifeline runs through them. Am I really ready to give it all up and tie myself to them, though?_ "I need to make a report on my progress on the plague. Regent Strauss will be very interested in what I have to tell him."

"I see." He pressed the buzzer button and spoke softly though an intercom. I tried to hear the conversation, but he quickly relesed the button and looked up at me. "Go right in. Regent Strauss is expecting your report right away." With that he opened the way into the Chantry. After signing my name, Lucius Marshall, half chosen by me, half from my sire, I passed within.

The hallways took me where I needed to go. Behind the final door stood Straus' imposing figure, framed by flickering firelight. He turned, slowly, at my approach, though I had no doubt he was well aware of where I was the instant I cracked the doors open. He gestured casually as I came near. "Greetings, Neonate. Please, sit. May I offer you refreshment?"

I sat and nodded, glad to finally be in a place of comfort and decency. "Yes, please. Thank you. I must say, this kind of hospitality has been rather... lacking, among the Kindred I've met so far."

Strauss smiled slightly as he poured blood from a carafe into a pair of goblets, before sitting himself and taking his engraved silver cup as I did. We sipped simultaneously – okay, so I was slightly paranoid about something being in the blood, and I wanted to make sure it was safe, make sure he would drink it before I did – and he took his time placing the goblet back on the table before answering, "Think nothing of it. Though if you wish for more such courtesey, you must make it a point to find better company among our kind. Still, you can hardly be blamed for that. Necessity has kept you with the less... polite members of our society. Tell me about your efforts with the Anarchs."

I smiled at that not-too-subtle barb. "They were incompetent, and I barely survived. Skelter, the Kindred I went to the location of the plaguebearer with, was headstrong, and got tricked by the Plaguebearer – her name was Jezebel, by the way, appropriate enough for someone spreading disease among sex workers. She managed to stake him while his back was turned, so his strength was useless. As it was, I barely managed to survive thanks to my knowledge of Thaumaturgy, limited though it is. Without going into too many details, the whole thing was sloppy and involved far too much frenzy for my tastes. Skelter ended up attacking me and threatening me, even though I was the one who saved his life! If I never have to work with them again, it couldn't be too soon."

Strauss nodded, calmly taking in my report. "Were you successful? Is the plaguebearer destroyed?"

"Yes. She is ash. And I have a sample of her blood." I pulled the tube out of my jacket pocket and handed it to Strauss. He took it, eagerness breaking through the calm mask on his face. "I have to ask – was I under compulsion to take this sample? I felt it overcome me as soon as Jezebel was incapacitated."

Surprise skittered across the mask, then annoyance, and then Strauss was serene once more. "I hope you understant the necessity. Often, in the heat of combat, it is easy to forget anything but survival and victory. This sample is invaluable to our efforts. With one more such sample, we can triangulate the location of the ultimate source of the plague, just as we found this plaugebearer with the blood of her victims."

_Well, at least he's honest about it._ "I understand completely. Just let me know next time so I can be prepared. I almost fought it off because I thought Jezebel was manipulating my mind somehow." _Not true, but at least this will make him that much more interested in keeping me in the loop._

Strauss seemed to be ignoring me, focusing intently on the vial of blood. He carefully put it away in his pocket, never taking his eyes off it until it was gone. Then he turned his eyes to me, carefully studying me as he took a sip from the goblet. He seemed to be trying to weigh and evaluate every piece of me, to be measuring me and determining my worth. He placed his goblet back on the table and spoke. "A reasonable request. You have proven yourself reliable and wise, Lucius. Far beyond your years, and I believe you will continued to impress with your wisdom and abilities. However, it seems you are lacking in both at present – it sounds as though you were in a dangerous position and needed acess to more capabilities than you currently posess during the last encounter – am I correct?"

"Yes, most certainly. I'd like to be much better-equipped to handle these problems for Clan and Camarilla."

"Very well then." He stood, and I follwed him as he glided serenly across the room, into the hallway. We eventually approached a door that opened at Strauss' mere touch. It was a library, with a simple desk, a comfortable, vermillion cusioned chair, a pen and notebook on the desk, and behind the desk, a shelf filled with strange books, old tomes. Strauss turned to me, and explained. "This is a study, for theinstruction of new members of our clan in the art and science of our so-called 'blood magik,' Thaumaturgy. I have many reference books here, containing knowledge as to the various specialities of our our Clan's talent. While you may not remove them from the Chantry, you may peruse them and take notes. Tell me, Lucious, what was your acadmenic field life? I assume you were an educated man."

I was taken aback by the opportunity here – and the strangeness of the question. "I, uh, was a chemist."

Strauss smiled. "I see. I would recommend, then, that you study the Thaumaturgical field of Alchemy – the most ancient way of transforming the properties and nature of physical matter." He reached up and pulled down a large, leather-bound tome and placed it on the table, next to the notebook. "Begin reading this – it is a thorough introduction to this field. Isolate yourself from all concerns external to this chantry – all worries, desires, and responsibilities. You have executed your duty to your fellow Kindred excellently, and have earned your rest – for now. Focus only upon your studies. Do you find this arrangement acceptable?"

I couldn't nod my head fast enough. "Yes! I appreciate how much this knowledge is worth, and thank you for sharing it with me."

"Yes, well, if you need anything, please use the buzzer. Jerald, our front desk ghoul, will see to any need you may have. He shall be here shortly with blood. I would not have anything distract you during your intellectual development. You shall be taken care of here. Now, if you'll excues me, I shall leave you to your education."

With that, I was left alone in a library full of secret, forbidden knowledge. _My god, this is what I've wanted to do since my Embrace._ _This, this is how I wanted to spend eternity. _I opened the book on Alchemy to page one, and felt at peace for the first time since I had died.


End file.
